


The Took's Arrangement

by snowmissus (soul_of_blaze)



Series: The Took's Arrangement [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, Arranged Marriage, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Frottage, Hair Braiding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marriage, Minor Violence, The One Ring - Freeform, Wedding, lmfao the tags are a bit spoilery but oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 62,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9613412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soul_of_blaze/pseuds/snowmissus
Summary: Shortly after Bilbo Baggins comes of age, he is swept up into a life he never expected. Upon the promise made between his grandfather and the dwarrow of Ered Luin, he sets off to marry the crown prince of Erebor, Thorin.Arranged marriages are not ideal, but he is a Baggins, and Bagginses keep promises, while his adventurous Took blood sends him running down the road to Erebor.





	1. Chapter 1

Bungo Baggins was a perfectly respectable hobbit, perhaps the most respectable in all of Hobbiton. Not in the entirety of the Shire, that went to his brother Longo, but he too was a _Baggins_. The Baggins were well-known for their manners and their lack of peculiarity among hobbits. They were well-to-do and nothing unexpected ever happened to them.

Except, Bungo had fallen in love with the loveliest, and unfortunately wildest lass in the Shire. She’d been raised in Tuckborough, born from the Took line. It wasn’t that the Tooks were not a well-known family, as they were rich and all resided in the Great Smials of Tuckborough. The only problem with the Tooks was that they were wilder folk than the other hobbits. They’d go off gallivanting in the woods. There was even a rumor that their blood had a hint of fae. A Baggins would do well to never be involved with a Tookish hobbit. It wasn’t respectable.

Of course, _he_ didn’t believe that rumor. He hadn’t even given it a second of thought. Belladonna Took had been a bright, sudden part of his life. The young hobbit lass had come careening into his life (literally). She’d loved him back. She’d stopped all her running about for _him._ Who could blame either of them?

Bungo didn’t care for what his parents seemed to think of her. What’s more, the Old Took wasn’t bothered by the presence of a Baggins in his family tree. It could only strengthen their bloodline.

Then along little Bilbo came.

Bungo loved his son as much as dearly as he loved his wife. It had brought the Tooks and Baggins together again. None of Bilbo’s grandparents could resist coming to see him just to avoid the other side of the family tree.

They were always at odds, but it seemed less tense after Bilbo’s birth. Their blatant fighting had come to an end. It could be found, in snide remarks at parties and in letters, but they did not avoid each other like they had before Bilbo’s birth. Now, with his son turning thirty-three, Bungo found himself happily reclined in his favorite armchair.

Outside, it rained softly.

Inside Bag End, the rain could hardly be considered disturbing. Despite it being spring, he’d started a low fire for warming one’s feet by. If anyone dared to come in and say something about it, the claim that the early days of spring were chilly worked well enough. No matter, for Bungo’s toes were warm and he found the rainy afternoon lovely. Especially with a small glass of his favored red wine.

Any moment, Belladonna and Bilbo would return from the market. The rain would have chased them back up the Hill. Though, there was a chance the two might risk the rain. Bilbo had inherited more of his mother’s Tookish nature than most hobbits deemed appropriate. Though it seemed as though it might be dulling down the more the years passed.

Bungo could hardly care, though the searching for elves in the woods had been becoming a tad excessive as of late. All was well, though. His son would grow out of it soon enough. That was what Mungo had said, at least, and he found himself inclined to believe his father. Even if Belladonna had snorted at the statement.

Afternoon tea was nearly on its way, four o’clock approaching Bag End and its master. With a great sigh, reluctant to take his feet away from warmth, Bungo stood. Neither Belladonna nor Bilbo were sticklers for every single meal. The respectable part of Bungo, however, _was_ and he would not forego afternoon tea. Especially with the thought of his wife and son likely almost home. They’d appreciate a warm cup of tea and a plate of biscuits after the rain.

In the kitchen, the rain could be heard louder through the small window. Bungo enjoyed this particular window. It let him look out on the garden while he cooked or washed. In earlier days, it’d been a treat for admiring his wife while she tended the flowers. Nowadays, they’d hired Holman Greenhand and it was mostly their gardener Bungo saw out the window. That was not bad, though, as Holman always made for amiable conversation.

 _Speak of the fellow!_ , thought Bungo.

For he could see the figure of his gardener, his large brimmed hat on, hurrying down Bagshot Row and towards Bag End. Had something happened? It was odd for him to be out in the rain.

Bungo did not panic. He only walked very quick to the round, front door of Bag End and opened it.

He very much wished he had not.

For there, standing on the small threshold of Bag End’s front, were two dwarves. Dwarves were not common in the Shire, least of all in Hobbiton, and _certainly not anywhere near Bag End!_

The Baggins side of Bungo, a dash of his wife’s influence, and maybe even a pinch of the wine, took over before he could slam the door in the dwarves’ faces. Which any sensible, truly respectable hobbit would have done. Instead, he smiled and opened his mouth.

“Hullo,” greeted Bungo and then to his surprise, took a step back and opened the door wider. Was he truly inviting them into his smial? Goodness. This was very un-Baggins of him. “I’m dreadfully sorry, this downpour and all, would you mind stepping inside?”

They did, to Bungo’s slight dismay. His eyes went immediately down to their boots. Said boots were caked in mud and no doubt would spread all through his smial. That was not acceptable, by Baggins standards or Took standards. None of it was very Hobbitish.

While he’d been inspecting their boots with mild disgust, the two dwarves had taken off their hoods. Thus, when Bungo looked back up, he had a better view of what they individually looked like. If he could assume age by hair color, then one dwarf was much older than the other. This first dwarf had grey hair, braided far too intricate for Bungo to even imagine. His hair seemed decorated in gold and other metals, perhaps even gems. That didn’t much surprise him, as what little they knew of dwarves had to do with their love of gold and other precious metals. He dressed in fine clothes, a brilliant shade of blue, which was accompanied by a dark red hood and cloak.

The dwarf had a tattoo on his face, which slightly disturbed the frailer of Bungo’s sensibilities, as well as one eye that seemed sealed over.

Oh dear.

Bungo looked over to the other dwarf, almost immediately when he noticed that particular feature. This dwarf had blonde hair, like many of the dwarves from the mountains west of them. He too had intricate braids, but nowhere near the intricacy of his elder’s. There were far less gems in his hair. He did dress in similar colors and style as well, though his hood and cloak were green. Both their beards were long and braided as well, though in completely different styles.

The younger of the two had taken one, muddy step forward. It broke Bungo out of his state and he let out a loud yelp.

The dwarves stared at him in mild concern, both freezing from making any other movements. The hobbit pointed at their feet, or rather their boots.

“Please, if you could take _those_ off. I don’t want any mud tracked into my hole, thank you!”

A long moment of silence passed between them, then both dwarves bent to take off their boots. Bungo relaxed, a breath he’d been unaware of releasing. He turned and moved to shut the door, for the rain would only end up inside Bag End and the smial had more than enough oddity at the moment.

However, he paused as Holman came up the small set of step stones that led to Bag End’s round door. His gardener was puffing out breaths, clutching his hat in his hands as he came to a stop before the threshold. His feet were splashed in mud and he at least held the same sensibility that no mud should be tracked into a fine smial. But he was also soaking wet from the rain.

“Oh, Mr. Baggins, I’m too late!” cried Holman when he saw the dwarves and their bootless feet. Which were quite tiny and if Bungo were not in such a mood, he might have laughed at them. “Mrs. Baggins sent me runnin’ over here, to tell you, but they got here before me.”

“Belladonna did?”

Bungo furrowed his brow. Had his wife sent the dwarves here to their smial? He’d have less complaints than if the dwarves had picked Bag End of all places, at least they might be familiar to his wife.

“Yessir. She and young Bilbo, they saw the dwarves comin’ over from the Great Smials earlier. She said she thought she’d be back but...”

Holman looked over at the dwarves and then back at Bungo, his lips twitching into an awkward and forced smile. It had dawned on Bungo the moment his gardener had said the words. The Great Smials, Tuckborough, the Thain had been talking with these dwarves. Everyone knew about the promise the Old Took had made during the Fell Winter.

Nothing had come of it yet. Therefore, most hobbits had let it pass into the back of their minds. Neither Bungo nor Belladonna had told their son about it. They hadn’t deemed it necessary. It had been over ten years ago, after all. Sensible hobbits kept that horrid winter out of their heads as much as possible. It didn’t do to bring up bad memories.

He disliked recalling it. They’d faced wolves and Orcs that the rangers had been unable to stop. The dwarves of Ered Luin had come to their aid. The Great Took had rallied their small military force with the dwarves and they had survived the winter. It had been their luck that winter, as many hobbits said, for they might not have survived without the dwarves. Bungo shuddered still when thoughts of that horrid winter surfaced. It had brought about an acquaintanceship between the Shirefolk and the dwarrows of Ered Luin, however, which was not a terrible thing. Though the dwarves did not suddenly move themselves into the Shire, there now lay a small village on the outskirts of the Shire, before the mountains, of dwarves and hobbits.

And the Old Took had promised one of his children or grandchildren and so on to be married to a dwarf of the King’s line, far away in Erebor. He hadn’t specified the child, for the dwarves hadn’t specified a dwarf either. It was promise meant to secure the trade picked up between the Shire and the mountains.

Bungo had never worried over it. He had but one son. Besides, Belladonna was not the eldest of her siblings. She had eight older brothers, after all. His heart thundered in his chest.

No. It simply made no sense, for they could not have chosen Bilbo, of all the Old Took’s grandchildren!

Ignoring Holman, he turned back with a cool smile on his lips. The two dwarves were stood in his parlor still. They’d been looking back and forth between the two hobbits but now the younger of the two straightened up.

“I am very sorry, gentleman, if my wife directed you here, but I do believe you are at the wrong smial.”

The dwarves exchanged a glance.

“Are you not Mr. Bungo Baggins and is this not Bag End?” asked the younger dwarf.

“I am but!” But what, he thought. This couldn’t be a mistake. Bungo Baggins could not deny that. These dwarves were here, at Bag End, looking for him and his only son.

They couldn’t take his only son.

“You listen here,” snapped Bungo suddenly, sticking his finger in the young dwarf’s face. “I won’t have you... you coming up here _, snatching_ my son and leaving. I don’t care what promise old Gerontius made.”

“Oh goodness.”

Bungo froze at the sound of his wife’s voice. Slowly, as though the whole of the Shire had frozen, he turned towards her. Belladonna had a calm, patient look on her face as she stared at her husband and the dwarves. Her eyebrows drew together slightly. Bungo swallowed.

A calm Belladonna was not a good instance. He knew his wife well and she very rarely held such a look. Only when Bilbo had done something he shouldn’t have, but it had been directed at Bungo once or twice.

Her eyebrows were drawn tighter together as she came up the lane. Bilbo walked behind her carefully. He seemed to be taking in the situation cautiously. His father standing outside Bag End in the rain, yelling at two dwarves inside their hole and their gardener standing to the side had to be a ridiculous sight. The shock blooming across his face wrangled Bungo out of his state, quicker than Belladonna’s expression.

“Bella! I was just...”

“I don’t want to hear what silly thing you’re going to make up, Bungo,” chided Belladonna then turned towards the dwarves. “Would you both go to the sitting room? I assure you we’ll all be in soon.”

As the two headed deeper inside Bag End, Bungo wrung his wrists and glanced back at his wife. She’d turned toward Holman with a small, apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, Holman, I thought they’d take longer arriving to Bag End. Please go on home, your help is appreciated.”

Holman inclined his head slightly, offering her a smile in return before hurrying down the lane and off down Bagshot Row. Belladonna turned back to her husband and son.

“Both of you, inside,” ordered Belladonna, waiting for Bilbo to head inside first before looking toward Bungo as they stepped into Bag End. “Did you make tea? It’s afternoon tea by now.”

“I... oh no,” groaned Bungo and hurried toward the kitchen. “I was in the midst of making it when I saw Holman and then, then, oh.”

He nearly fainted but found himself supported by a strong hand. The dwarf, one of them at least, had kept him from keeling over onto the kitchen floor. It was kind of him but utterly embarrassing for Bungo.

“Careful,” said the dwarf. “Perhaps you should sit down.”

Belladonna sat by his side a moment later, tutting as she handed him a cup of tea. Bungo stared at it in surprise then looked at his wife. It clearly had been a while; he had not set the kettle to boil before the whole disruption had happened.

“You didn’t make this, did you?”

“Don’t be rude,” hissed Belladonna before smiling. “Bilbo made it. You passed out for a few minutes, sweetling. King Thráin and his son were just introducing themselves-”

“ _King_?” shrieked Bungo, nearly upsetting the cup in his hands were it not for the steady grip of his wife’s fingers on his wrist.

“Come now,” said Thráin, or who Bungo assumed must be the king, holding a teacup, though it looked comically tiny in his hand. He kept glancing nervously at Belladonna across the table. “We are going to be family; you don’t need to be formal about it.”

Belladonna stuck her nose in the air.

Belladonna had _not_ invited the dwarves, if the way she was acting had any indication. 

At least they were both thoroughly upset by this turn of events then. Perhaps, if Bella were on his side, they’d shoo the dwarves off and Bilbo would not be travelling far away. It was the ideal outcome of the situation for Bungo. And for Bilbo, he hoped.

“As I was saying,” began King Thráin again, bringing Bungo’s attention back onto the dwarves. “The Thain, Isengrim was his name I believe? sent us here. He said that his sister had a son of age, though he’s not the eldest of the previous Thain’s grandchildren.”

“That’s right,” interrupted Bungo. “Bilbo isn’t; you see? I don’t know what Isengrim was thinking sending you here.”

Belladonna’s hand squeezed his shoulder tightly.

“My brother is correct that Bilbo is of age and that he is not the oldest of his cousins. I doubt he simply picked my son, however.”

“Aye,” said Thráin. “He said as well that you were favored by your father greatly, perhaps the most of all his children. That your son is your only child.”

“He is,” said Belladonna sharply. “If you think I or my husband will let you walk out of here with our son, your skull must be thick as the stone you treasure.”

“We do not think that,” said the other dwarf. “We are here to convince you, hopefully sooner rather than later. If we are to arrive back in Erebor before winter snows block the mountain passages, we cannot linger here long.”

“My son is right,” continued Thráin. “Your brother also told us that the other children that may have been possibilities are married or too young.”

“Why now?” demanded Bungo, practically slamming his teacup down on the table. Belladonna sent him a warning glance.

“I am growing old,” admitted the dwarf king. “I fear I do not have too many years left in my life. My son is to become king after me and he is _sometimes_ difficult. He needs someone more level-headed. I understand from the dwarves in Ered Luin that hobbits are far more level-headed than most dwarves.”

Bungo had turned to look at the dwarf beside Thráin. Was this the one Bilbo had to marry? He seemed nice enough. Though, he didn’t look like he’d be difficult to deal with. He’d been rather kind to Bungo and did not seem upset at all about the outrage with which Bungo and Belladonna were responding.

“What about heirs?” asked Belladonna. “Surely you do not think it would even be possible, between a dwarf and a hobbit!”

“Ah. No, my son has declared his heirs already, in his sister-sons. The matter of that is not a concern of mine or his.”

Bungo continued staring at the king’s son. He truly didn’t seem that bad. Perhaps, perhaps he could adjust to having a dwarf as a son-in-law. It might be strange, but of course, he’d hardly see them. Though he did not react much to his father talking about him so.

Which he did not see as a very good quality.

“If, if you think!” said Bungo suddenly, standing up and startling everyone at the table. He finally noticed Bilbo was not present. “If you think that you can just come in here and take my son, you have another thing coming!”

He’d turned his attention onto the young dwarf, who stared up at Bungo in mild confusion. Beside him, Belladonna squeezed Bungo’s arm. The king looked about the table, to his son and then chuckled a little.

“Master Baggins, please sit back down. Frerin is not marrying your son. His brother, Thorin, is.”

“And where is he?” demanded Bungo. Why, to not even show his face!

“He is in Erebor,” answered Frerin, a smile dancing on his lips. “Our father thought it best that Thorin had experience with the throne on his own. It was a good opportunity. I am afraid your son will be unable to meet my brother until we are in Erebor.”

“Likely for the best,” muttered Thráin.

They were quiet for a long time then, staring at each other across the table until their tea had cooled significantly. No one had set out the biscuits and it distressed Bungo slightly. He had a terrible habit of nervous eating. It was a comfort in times like these. However, what distressed him more was the lack of his son in the room. If they were discussing his future, the boy should be there.

“Where is Bilbo?”

“I asked him to wash up,” said Belladonna. “He should be out shortly. I am not sure how to break _this_ to him.”

“You mean he doesn’t know?” asked Frerin.

“We didn’t think he’d be the one. He might have heard rumors about this arrangement but we never told him there was a possibility _he_ might be married off.”

His wife seemed distressed by the events, her face creasing. Bungo held her hand where the dwarves could not see. It was not entirely respectable of them but she needed his comfort at the moment.

Frerin looked worried over the fact that Bilbo didn’t know he was about to be engaged. That he had no hint of it at all.

“I don’t know if-” started the dwarf but then Bilbo stepped into the dining room.

“Bilbo,” cried Belladonna then sprang to her feet. “Sit down. We need to talk to you about something.”

As he sat down, Bilbo looked around the table then back towards his mother. His father looked overly distressed which was never a good indication of things to come. The dwarves themselves were such an oddity that he couldn’t fathom what was happening inside Bag End.

Though he’d come to expect oddities from his mother, dwarves were not at the front of his mind. He saw them occasionally at the market but they had always been few and rare. They had always piqued his interest, much as Elves had.

“Is it to do with the dwarves?”

“That it does,” said his mother softly. “Bilbo, when the dwarves helped up during that winter, you remember, don’t you?”

How could he forget? It’d been dreadful. They’d had a great lack of food and he had hardly been let outside the whole winter. What he had seen when he’d been outside turned into the stuff of nightmares for him and many of his cousins. It had been a terrible, terrible time for them. He’d lost a few friends to that winter.

In the end, they’d been saved by the dwarves from the mountain out east. Gandalf, a wizard friend of his mother’s, and the Rangers had helped them with food but they’d have been done for, if the dwarves had not stepped in.

He nodded.

“Your grandfather made a promise,” continued Belladonna. “He made a promise to the dwarves that when the time came...” For a moment, his mother struggled with words. “When the time came, one of his children or his children’s children and so forth would be married into the royal line of Durin.”

Belladonna looked at the two dwarves now. Bilbo hadn’t heard their initial introductions nor their names at all. All he knew was that there were two dwarves in his home and that his parents seemed very upset. Bilbo was a rather smart young hobbit. He could piece it together on his own.

Or at least, assume. These dwarves were here on behalf of the royal dwarves, he figured, for him.

“I’m the one then,” stated Bilbo, watching his parents’ faces. Bungo crumbled a little while Belladonna held a tighter expression as she nodded. He didn’t need to ask why it was him. Most of his cousins were younger than him or were already married.

Bilbo just didn’t expect he’d be married to anyone; after all he had only come of age the previous year. The Tookish blood he had was starting to calm down and he preferred more of his father’s books every day. He thought of the Old Took, who had only died three years ago. His grandfather has cherished him, as much as he had Belladonna. The more he thought about it, the more he knew what he had to do. It was not much of a choice anyway, but he felt better knowing he was going to do this of his own choice

“Aye,” said the elder dwarf, startling Bilbo slightly. “If you agree. But, I believe we should introduce ourselves first. I am Thráin II, son of Thrór, and King of Erebor.”

Bilbo eyes widened in surprise, taking in the regal appearance of the king. He had thought the dwarf looked finer than other dwarves he had seen, but the hobbit could hardly have guessed his identity. He looked towards the younger dwarf curiously. Was he also royalty?

“I am Frerin, son of Thràin, Prince of Erebor.” He bowed his head. “I will recap what we have told your parents: we are here to escort you to Erebor safely, where you will secure the Shire’s ties with all dwarrow, through marriage to my brother, Thorin, the crown prince.”

Bilbo barely processed the information before he responded.

“When do we leave?”

His question startled his parents but the king seemed strangely delighted by his decision and forwardness over it.

“Well,” started Thráin, while Bungo spluttered. “We could leave immediately tomorrow. The sooner the better, as we want to try and avoid any snow blocking our way. We’ve had predictions this winter might be a tough one.”

Belladonna stared at her son in shock.

“Bilbo,” started his mother, cut herself off, then took a deep breath. “You cannot just decide this. Isn’t there-- there must be a contract of some sort?”

She’d turned her attention back onto Thráin, who nodded in assent.

“Aye, there is. I’ll have Frerin go and retrieve it, as well as the young dwarf who helped write it up. You see, we have quite a number of dwarves with us, though they’re all in the, what was it, _dashat_?”

“The Green Dragon Inn, I believe it was.”

Frerin looked quite amused by this and Thráin chuckled in response.

“An odd name, I admit,” said Thráin as he stood from the table. “But, the rest of our traveling companions are there. We expect a few of our kin from Ered Luin to come along with us as well. The Thain said too that he was willing to send representatives of the prominent clans here with us for negotiations, when we are in Erebor.”

“I don’t know what hobbits you think you’ll get to come with you besides a few Tooks,” grumbled Bungo, glancing at his son. He’d calmed down enough to talk but his hands were trembling.

The dwarf king only looked more amused. Frerin bid them a quick farewell with a promise to be back soon with the contract and the dwarf who’d written it up. Bilbo sat there, fiddling with his waistcoat. He didn’t have too many doubts but how far was Erebor? He didn’t think it was even on his father’s maps.

“Why don’t I tell you more about the other dwarves?”

Thráin had sat down next to Bilbo, startling the young hobbit. Up close, the scar on his eye attracted Bilbo’s attention. What a strange thing indeed. No hobbit Bilbo had known had scars. The Rangers did, but they were Big Folk and far more intimidating than the dwarves. At least dwarves were closer to their size.

“I know a good deal about dwarves,” retorted Bilbo. He’d met a couple of the dwarves from the nearby mountain.

Thráin stared at him for a moment, then burst into great laughter. Belladonna and Bungo, who has been talking quietly to each other, looked over in alarm but the dwarf waved them off. He calmed down his laughter, his large hand patting Bilbo’s back gently.

“Well! I think you might be too a good match for Thorin,” chuckled Thráin, wiping away a small tear. “Of course you know about dwarves, lad. I only meant about our company on the journey back. Knowing more about them specifically might make the journey easier, for all of us.”

“Oh,” muttered Bilbo, having the sense to look embarrassed.

“I’ll start off with my son and I. I am Thráin, the King of Erebor, as I told you. Frerin is my son, the younger of he and his brother. They have a sister as well, Dís, but she stayed in Erebor with Thorin. A good thing too, as she is much more sensible than her brothers.”Bilbo smiled slightly, feeling a tinge of relief in his chest. At least this dwarf seemed friendly. If the king were friendly to him, then maybe he would have a fine time with the dwarves.

“We’ve set up a personal guard for you already,” continued Thráin and Bilbo looked up in shock. The king gave him no room for interruptions, however. “Don’t worry, you’ll need him and he makes for good company. His name is Bofur, though he’s more of a miner. The friendliest dwarf you’ll ever meet, I expect. Now, Frerin is bringing Ori, along with the contract. Ori is a scribe apprentice. We don’t normally take scribes on long journeys but we needed him for all this contract business.”

Thráin sighed a little, shaking his head as though contracts were the root of all trouble in his life. Maybe they were, Bilbo pondered. He didn’t know much of a king’s business.

“You said you have an entire company, though?”

“Oh, yes, you’d truly like to know about all of them?” When Bilbo nodded, the dwarf smiled before jumping back into naming and telling Bilbo the dwarves he’d be spending time with. Of those, Bilbo had found himself most interested in getting to know a dwarf named Dori and a dwarf named Bifur, besides Ori and Bofur. Bifur was a Kingsguard, while Dori apparently worked mainly with clothes.

Thráin informed him that the reason Dori had come along was because he spent much time with the royal family, and despite how he might look, the dwarf was also a fierce warrior. Apparently, he also made many of the cloths the royal family wore.

“My advisor, Balin, was to come as well but I thought it better to leave him with Thorin for help. I hope I made the right decision, back in the day Balin used to, ah!”

The King abruptly stopped and smiled as Frerin walked back in, tailed by a much smaller dwarf. He had red hair, freckles dotting his face and he looked absolutely _nothing_ like either of the dwarves. Though his braids were also intricate, it didn’t seem to be the same kind as the king’s and prince’s. He had a grey hood and cloak, though Bilbo could see the purple tones of his clothing peeking out.

He paused and then bowed to Thráin, who looked like he desired to wave it off. Then, the new dwarf smiled at Bilbo and his parents.

“Hello, Ori at your service.”

Then Ori bowed again and Frerin smacked him lightly on his back when he straightened back up.

“Oh, you don’t need to do all of that here, Ori. Come, show them the contract.”

Though he unraveled a rather large scroll, the look on Ori’s face was quite surprised. He kept glancing at Bilbo every few seconds, even after he’d stepped back from the unraveled contract. The hobbit did not know how to feel about the cursory glances.

He hoped this would not be how all the dwarves acted around him.

“Here we are,” announced Thráin and stood behind Bilbo, encouraging him to move closer to the contract. “There’s quite a lot to read, I suspect, but everything should be in order.” He paused and then looked up. “Mr. and Mrs. Baggins are welcome to also read over this, as they see fit. It would do better if we had Thorin here but I’m afraid that cannot be helped. We will make due once we are back in Erebor, although he has already agreed to all the terms.”

He’d only begun to read when Thráin said that and it gave Bilbo pause. As he looked up, he could see the soft expression on his mother’s face and the worried one stuck on his father’s. They would miss their only son’s marriage. He couldn’t, _no no_ , he wouldn’t stand that.

“I want my parents to come,” said Bilbo, putting his hand on the contract and then looking at Thráin. “Before I even read this or agree to it.”

“I see no problem with that!” replied Thráin. “It is more up to them, I should think.”

They looked over at Bungo and Belladonna, and Bilbo did so with his eyes pleading. If he was to go, it would be a comfort for him to have his parents along. After all his mother had traveled before and his father would be a voice of reason and sensibility.

Besides, to be perhaps the only hobbit among a company of dwarves, that sounded like _too_ grand an adventure for a little hobbit like Bilbo.

The prospect of traveling, especially with dwarves for company, flabbergasted Bungo and he merely gaped at his son in response. Never in his life had he been asked by anyone to leave the Shire. Not even Belladonna had asked him to go anywhere with her, even when she’d travelled mere months before they were married.

She’d settled down, though, content in Bag End. As far as he had known. Bungo looked over to his wife for help. After all this time, would she desire to travel and the leave the Shire again?

But Belladonna looked as shocked as Bungo, her mouth moving wordlessly at her son’s plea. Thráin regarded them both with patience. Bungo wondered if that was a trait of a king, to be able to wait patiently and without a word for a decision.

This was a particularly big decision, not only on their parts.

“I couldn’t deny my son that,” spoke Belladonna at last. Across the table, Bilbo’s shoulders drooped in relief. If his mother went, then so would his father. He could be easily swayed by her. “I fear neither of us could stay in Erebor the rest of our lives, but I do not see why we couldn’t travel with you, and I would love to see my son married.”

They shifted their eyes onto Bungo, who finally grasped his words.

“A-and, I agree with my wife. If Bilbo wants us to go, then we shall go. It would do well to see him safely there and then to see his marriage,” stated Bungo, then took in a breath of air. “And I want to meet this Thorin fellow. I have a few words for him!”

Thráin chuckled slightly, patting Bilbo on the back again while Frerin grinned.

“I am sure he will be amiable to a conversation or two with you, Mr. Baggins. But if that is your only request, Bilbo, would you kindly read the contract? If we are to leave tomorrow, this business needs to be done with soon.”

Bilbo set to reading the contract, aware of the eyes of everyone in the room being focused on him. It formed a great deal of anxiety that they all watched him as he read. He kept his attention on the contract, mouthing words as he read along.

The contract had been written in Westron, not the dwarf language of Khuzdul, which Bilbo was thankful for. If he’d had to have everything translated to him, that would be frustrating and besides they could slip in what they wanted without the hobbit knowing. 

He didn’t think the dwarves would, though. In the past, before the Fell Winter, they’d not heard good about dwarves in general. But Thráin and Frerin and Ori too seemed all very nice, as the dwarves of Ered Luin had been. They couldn’t be like the tales he’d heard.

For his part, Bilbo hadn’t known what to expect from a marriage contract and especially one that was an arranged marriage. He could feel the weight of duty on his shoulders suddenly. A part of him wished to stand up and run away. But they’d find another hobbit, one of his cousins, and the more reasonable part of Bilbo Baggins reminded himself that it would be a great honor to his family, to follow through with his grandfather’s promise.

It mostly talked of the future trade agreements between their people, how they would be negotiated and what benefits Bilbo would reap from the marriage. As well, it detailed the marriage and its purposes. He had, once he signed, the protection of any dwarf sworn to Erebor and the King Under the Mountain. That protection would only increase when he officially married Thorin. It stated that he’d be assigned a guard for the duration of the trip to Erebor (this was Bofur, he supposed), then he’d be given a Royal Guard within Erebor.

There under those lines, a signature that Bilbo could barely read, but it looked as though it could be read as _Bofur_.

Further down, it talked of his duties as the Prince’s spouse. While Thorin was the Prince, Bilbo would have very little to do, besides attend meetings and trade arrangements. To his surprise, it went into detail of what would be expected of him when Thorin ascended the throne and Bilbo became Prince Consort.

He paused slightly, mind sticking on a small clause that he nearly skimmed over. _On the topic of heirs…_

_The hobbit in question is not expected to provide Prince Thorin with any heirs. Children are rare in our society and we hardly know if a child could even be produced between a hobbit and a dwarf…_

Bilbo flushed slightly, eyes darting down towards the end of the clause.

_... Prince Thorin has already declared his heirs in his sister-sons, Fíli and Kíli, sons of Víli and Princess Dís. Princess Dís approved the decision. Therefore, this marriage requires no reproduction of heirs._

He did not know how to feel about that. Certainly, it was a relief that he did not have to worry about any of that. But goodness he’d not even thought about that as part of the marriage. Besides, it had to be highly unlikely that a child could be produced.

 _Yes_ , he thought, _it’s not my concern as this_ clearly _states_.

The rest of the contract talked about minor issues, though he briefly paused at the mention of war and further what would happen if Thorin were to die before Bilbo. They’d ensure his safety no matter what, it detailed.

Bilbo didn’t want to think about his potential husband, who he hadn’t even met!, being dead.

As he reached the end of the contract, reading over one last statement about that if he signed it, he agreed to and understood everything within, Ori produced a quill. Bilbo smiled in thanks before he took it and carefully signed the contract. When he sat back, he noticed the signature under his. It was Thorin’s, signed rather flashily, if you asked Bilbo.

 _Thorin, son of Thráin_ …

He took a deep breath and then turned towards the King, smiling.

“I think it’s all settled then.” 

“ _Bizrul galikh!_ ” shouted Thráin, the harsh _Khuzdul_ startling the three hobbits. Frerin chuckled again but Ori looked slightly abashed by his King’s friendliness. He continued on in Westron. “Then we shall see you once the sun rises. Do you need help packing your belongings? As you read, we promise you everything we can, but I have no doubt you will have personal belongings you might want to take along.”

“Er,” stuttered Bilbo then cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t mind some help, but-”

“Ah! I shall send Dori over, then. He’ll help you best of our company. Isn’t that right, Ori?” asked Thráin, directing his attention toward the young dwarf. 

Ori turned red, ducking his head as he rolled up the contract. Bilbo hadn’t even noticed he’d been doing that. 

“I’m sure,” said the dwarf, timidly. “Dori is very good at organizing.” 

“Dori is Ori’s older brother,” explained Thráin. He smiled widely as he looked back at Bilbo. “Frerin, Ori, and I will head to the Green Dragon. I shall send Dori in the morning. If we leave by noon, I think we shall make good time towards Bree.”

Once he was sure the three hobbits were agreeable to the arrangement of events, Thráin bid them a goodbye, which included a low bow. Frerin and Ori repeated the gesture as they left. The youngest dwarf seemed flustered as he left the hole behind. Bilbo watched them curiously.

The moment the door to Bag End had closed on the dwarves’ backs, Belladonna turned towards her son and cupped his face. 

“Oh, my faunt, you did not have to do any of that. If you had said no, I am sure Isengrim could have found another of your cousins or even dipped into the Brandybuck line, they’re closely enough related.” 

“Mum,” sighed Bilbo and brought his hand up to hers. “I, I want to do this. Grandfather made that promise and I will keep it!” 

Bilbo looked toward his father, who had moved to sit back in his armchair and held his head in his hands. He looked quite stressed by the events that had unfolded in the last few hours. With a quick glance towards his mother, Bilbo knew they’d be making Bungo’s (and Bilbo’s) favorites for dinner. It would assuage Bungo and likely it would be the last time Bilbo had food he loved so. 

For now, he moved to kneel in front of his father. 

“Father?” tried Bilbo quietly, then reached up to move his father’s hands away from his face. “I know this is hard for you.” 

“Oh,” wailed Bungo suddenly and dropped his hands, looking at his son. “Who cares about me? You are leaving, to-- to be married off to some dwarf and here I am, moping about! Well! No Baggins am I, if I act that way.”

After a long moment of silence, the three Bagginses burst into delighted, yet sad laughter.

That night, as Bilbo crawled into bed, he realized it would be the last time he slept in it. The last time he slept under the Hill and in Bag End. His father had built this home for Belladonna. They had expected many children but it had been only Bilbo.

And Bilbo would not fill the smial with children either.

He closed his eyes, the sleep that took him away fitful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul: (all Khuzdul I use will be from the Dwarrow Scholar)  
> dashat - son  
> Bizrul galikh! - Wonder/Wonderful
> 
> I'm so so nervous about this! But here we are. I've been working on this for years. I will add tags as characters appear and as things happen. I won't tag any other ships in this to keep it out of other ship tags but you'll probably be able to spot other ships if they pop up. 
> 
> I LOVE comments and I will try to respond in a timely manner. Please let me know if you have any questions, or if there is something that needs to be edited. I plan to try and update every Tuesday, as long as school isn't too busy. This is a finished story, meaning it only needs a bit of editing.
> 
> Also: you don't need to read the other works in this series, but one of them does give more background.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo meets more dwarves, packs his things, and hits the road.

Morning arrived with the bright sun and despite Bilbo’s reluctance to move out of bed, Hobbiton continued on in its daily life. None of the hobbits knew a thing about what was going on inside Bag End. They didn’t know that at noon, precisely, Bilbo Baggins would leave his home forever, and with the company of several dwarves.

How he managed to drag himself out of bed, Bilbo did not know. He was dressed and freshened up by the time his mother called out for him from the kitchen. He entered the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes but came to an abrupt stop.

There, at their small kitchen table, sat a dwarf. It was not Thráin, nor was it Frerin nor Ori. This stranger dwarf had silver hair, braided intricately and in such style, that Bilbo had to wonder how long it could have taken. He had a cup of tea and chatted quietly with Belladonna.

Bilbo must have made a noticeable noise, for the conversation stopped and the dwarf looked to him.

“You must be young Master Bilbo!”

“Oh,” said Bilbo quietly. “That is me.”

“Bilbo,” chided his mother. “This is Dori, the dwarf that king Thráin told us about last night. We didn’t want to wake you up too early, but I am glad you are up. He’s told me that Thráin, sorry, _king_ Thráin would like to be prompt about leaving on time.”

She’d corrected herself at the slight narrowing of Dori’s eyes but his expression remained cheerful. That reminded Bilbo far too much of certain relatives. Though Dori did not seem dreadful, like they were.

“Your father,” continued Belladonna. “He went down to have a talk with Holman about keeping an eye on Bag End during our leave. I’ll be packing for both us, but Dori here is more than ready to help you!”

“Aye,” agreed Dori, offering Bilbo a softer smile. It seemed more of a true smile this time. He set down his cup as he stood up. “It would be ideal to pack many of your clothes, as I will be unable to fit you anything until we are in Erebor. Besides that, we will manage whatever else you wish to take.”

With one more look at his mother, and disappointed he would not have first breakfast, Bilbo led Dori back towards his room. Truth be, he did not have too many belongings that held much significance. Many hobbits inherited their valued items from their parents or families, and as Bungo and Belladonna were both in good health, he had nothing from them.

Thus, the majority of his bags were made up of his clothes. He’d taken a few books that Bungo had given him over time. Some were merely children’s tales, though others were more recent and appropriate to his age.

At his last birthday, his mother had given him a lovely red journal. She’d written down many of her adventures in a similar one and she had said as much for him upon the gifting. He hadn’t used it yet, but it seemed appropriate that he take it with him now.

Imagine a whole story written about the dwarves. There weren’t any that his father or mother had, he was almost sure that there may be none at all outside of their mountains.

Dori gave him an apprehensive look.

“Are you certain this is all you want to take? You are to live in Erebor, we would all like if you treated it as your home.”

Bilbo shook his head, however. These were his things, the belongings that held the most significance. To bring anything else from his room would only be frivolous, he thought.

A knock on the door startled the two of them. Belladonna’s voice came through the wood.

“Bilbo?”

He jumped up and opened the door, smiling nervously at his mother. She had two frames in her hands, distinct enough that Bilbo knew instantly what they were.

“Mum-”

But she’d turned towards Dori, a bright smile on her face.

“Master Dori, I want my son to have these with him in Erebor,” started Belladonna, turning the frames around to show him what they were. His father and mother’s faces smiled slightly back at them. “These are portraits of Bungo and I, but I think they would be of more use with Bilbo. I’d like some part of us to be with him.”

They’d been hanging over the fireplace long as Bilbo could remember. He’d always admired the portraits of his parents. To him, they brought the entirety of Bag End together just right. And his mother wanted to take that away.

Then again, Bilbo too was leaving Bag End permanently.

“That is lovely,” breathed Dori, coming over to take the frames carefully. “I will make sure they are packed so they will not be damaged.”

The dwarf appeared a little too teary over it. As he went back to the bags in order to pack them carefully, Bilbo stared at his mother.

“You didn’t, you didn’t have to, mum.”

“Nonsense,” said Belladonna. “Your father and I can very well look at each other, we don’t need our own portraits up on the wall like that. And, if he is back in time, I want to see if your father will give you a map of the Shire to have as well.”

“Oh!”

Dori startled the pair of them.

“A map of the Shire would be lovely to bring to Erebor!” cried the dwarf. “We shall certainly try to take one with us.”

Belladonna beamed, before hugging her son tightly.

“Everything will be just fine,” murmured his mother before she released him. “Now, second breakfast and hopefully your father will be back in time for that!”

“Right,” said Bilbo and moved to stand up, intent on heading for the kitchen. Someone had to make second breakfast and his father wasn’t there to do it. Belladonna, however, apparently had other plans as she waved him off. “Mum?”

“I know you and your father don’t trust me in the kitchen, dear, but I think I can manage one meal!”

Bilbo shot her a worried look but she’d already turned her back to him.

Beside him, Dori clapped his hands together. It startled Bilbo and he turned to stare at the dwarf.

“You hobbits like eating, don’t you?” The dwarf had an amused look about him.

By the time elevenses had come, Bungo had not returned. This worried his son, who had hoped that neither he nor Dori would suffer through another meal at the hands of Belladonna. It wasn’t that his mother’s cooking was that bad.

It was not _good_ , though.

While Dori did not seem mind, Bilbo did. He’d been raised on his father’s excellent cooking and had only suffered from his mother’s a handful of times. He didn’t like the prospect of starting off the journey with a bellyache.

His mother and the dwarf were bustling about Bag End, packing last minute items and securing everything in Bag End. Bilbo had taken to the task of washing the dishes before they left. It wouldn’t do to leave anything dirty. In fact, it would be rude to whoever looked after Bag End. Even from the kitchen, he could hear his mother and Dori.

“I understand securing your possessions, but locking them up in such a manner feels rather extreme, Missus Baggins.” Dori said, causing Bilbo to peek his head out the kitchen doorway. His mother stood before her glory box, key in hand.

“Why, Bungo has a few relatives I don’t trust to not come in here with sticky fingers while we’re gone!”

Dori looked at her incredulously.

“Your family would do that? But this is _your_ home,” the dwarf said, quite offended by that. He narrowed his eyes and looked toward Bilbo, who had finished washing and come into the dining room. “That isn’t a hobbit trait is it?”

“We’re not burglars,” grumbled Bilbo, feeling offended himself. “It’s them, not us. Half of the Shire is jealous of Bag End.”

“Right they should be,” amended Dori, as he helped Belladona put away the silver tea set. “For a hole, it’s a fine place.”

Bilbo’s nose twitched and he would have said something snidely but his mother sent him a warning look. He deflated slightly and looked at his hands, contemplating what else he could do until noon came. All the cleaning had been taken care of and the packing as well. Their pantries would likely be used up by whomever watched over the smial.

Then, as if he’d heard the boredom radiating from his son, Bungo stepped inside Bag End. He looked tired already, even though the day was hardly half over and they had long hours ahead of them on the road. Or so it had been implied by all the dwarves.

“You wouldn’t believe,” he managed, as Belladonna pecked his cheek, “how difficult it is to ensure nothing befalls our smial while we’re away for a year!”

“I’m sure you figured it all out, sweet,” murmured Belladonna, “go and change, I left an outfit out for you on the bed. Dori here says we should head down to the Green Dragon soon.”

Bungo nodded at all of them, then held out his hand to Dori. The dwarf gave it an apprehensive glance. When he did not reach out to shake it, Bungo dropped his hand and smiled awkwardly.

“You are one of the king’s men?” Bungo’s eyebrows drew together. “Er, dwarves?”

“We prefer dwarrows, Mister Baggins.” Dori said, frowning. “I am one of the king’s guards. You met my young brother the night previous.”

“Ah,” Bungo said, his face brightening. “Ori, that lad? Why, you look nothing alike!”

Dori’s face turned sour. “That’s none of your business, sir.”

Bungo stared at him in confusion, opening his mouth as if to say something. However, the dwarf had turned away. He seemed to be fussing with one of the bags instead of continuing the conversation. Bilbo frowned but Bungo shook his head.

“Oh!” Belladonna startled the three of them. “Bungo, do you think Bilbo could take one of your maps of the Shire with him?”

For a moment, the hobbit stayed quiet but then he smiled, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

“That would be quite nice, wouldn’t it?”

He ran off to the study, coming back with one of the finer maps he had made. This caught Dori’s attention again, though he stayed quiet as he inspected the map. Bungo set it down carefully on the table. They took a step back, admiring it. It was one of the ones Bilbo had always admired as a young child.

Dori stroked his beard, eyes following the detailed rivers and roads.

“Where are we?”

Bungo pointed near the middle of the map, tapping _Hobbiton_. “We live in Hobbiton, on The Hill. Ah, and,” he traced his finger towards _Needlehole_ , “the mountains are this way.”

The dwarf nodded, smiling again. “We’ve heard a few inquiring comments about this Needlehole, but I had no idea there were hobbits and dwarrows living together. If we had more time, it would have been nice to see.”

“It’s not bad,” Belladonna commented, as Dori and Bungo rolled up the map, “but most hobbits around here wouldn’t venture there often.”

“You’d think,” Bungo said, sighing, “that they would adjust to a dwarf presence.”

Belladonna chuckled into her hand. Dori cast her a confused look while Bungo continued grumbling. Once the map was secured in one of the bags, he ran off to change. They were meant to be at the Green Dragon Inn soon.

Bilbo eyed their bags, wondering if maybe they had too much. Dori, however, merely began shouldering many of the bags. The hobbits watched in wonder as the dwarf somehow carried a majority of their bags. They were quick to take the remaining bags as he began heading down the hill. Bilbo ignored the majority of the looks they were receiving from their neighbors. It was not aimed at the dwarf as much as it was at the oddity of the three Bagginses and their belongings.

Soon enough, they would be out of the Shire and leaving behind the Shirefolk.

The Green Dragon Inn was, to put it simply, in chaos when they arrived. Hobbits were everywhere. It being between elevenses and luncheon, that was not too much of a shock. Before he had stepped into the Green Dragon, Bilbo had only seen three dwarrows maximum in a single room. There were at least a dozen dwarves in the inn, if not more.

Dwarrows, in general, were taller than Shirefolk. Not like the Big folk, but significant enough that you couldn’t mistake a dwarf for a hobbit. That was besides all the hair and their beards. And their boots and swords and armor. It was best to say a significant difference could be seen between the two races.

There seemed to be a dispute going on between one dwarf and one of Bilbo’s Took cousins, Adalgrim. He looked quite red in the face. While other hobbits avoided the dwarrows as much as possible, Adalgrim looked seconds from a fist fight.  

Belladonna tutted and made her way over to her nephew, while Bungo and Bilbo hung back.

“I do hope she doesn’t embarrass him too bad,” sighed Bungo, with a concerned noise from Bilbo.

The possible altercation between the two dissolved almost immediately, when Adalgrim caught sight of Belladonna walking over toward him. Quickly, he ran off, disappearing toward the back of the inn. No doubt, he would face his aunt’s scolding tongue later.

Bilbo left his father’s side, catching up to Belladonna as she came short a mere few feet from where her nephew had been. The dwarf looked curiously at them. Belladonna smiled kindly at him. Notably, he had a strange furred hat on top of his head. It set him apart from the other dwarves, at least. Also, the braids in his hair were curled up at the ends. It was strange style, even amongst the dwarrows, he thought. Despite being indoors, the dwarf also had a colorful scarf on.

“Hello, Master Dwarf, I’d like to apologize for what my nephew may have said to you, despite the trade between our people, some hobbits are having a hard adjustment,” she began delicately, keeping a placid smile.

“Ah,” the dwarf waved her off, “he didn’t say anythin’ I coulda took offense to. Bofur, at your service.”

He gave a low bow, the odd hat on his head not shifting a bit as he came back up.

“Your lot really must stop with the bowing,” sighed Belladonna, before holding out a hand to Bofur. “Belladonna Took, at yours. And this,” she reached over and pushed Bilbo forward lightly, “this is my son, Bilbo Baggins!”

“Oh!” The dwarf looked delighted, bowing again over Belladonna’s hand. He kissed Belladonna’s hand, grinning as he stood up and looked at Bilbo. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Master Baggins. Ori brought the contract back last night, suppose you know then that I’m to be watchin’ over you.”

Bofur grinned. Bilbo offered him a sheepish smile in return.

“Oh, well. I did read that.”  

Bofur nodded, then rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “One of them.”

“One of them?” asked Bilbo, then frowned. “The contract said…”

“Eh, well, king Thráin decided this morning that it might be better if you had two guards instead, at least for the journey. Truth is,” Bofur leaned closer to the two of them, lowering his voice, “we’ve heard nasty rumors about orc packs. It’s only a cautionary measure right now.”

Bilbo felt unsure about having two dwarves following him around at all times for the next few months. It wasn’t very agreeable. However, it was his word against the king’s after all and that wouldn’t be much of a debate, he supposed. Besides, orcs were not creatures hobbits trifled with.

“Where’s the other guard? I should meet them as well, I should think.”

Bofur chuckled slightly, nodding and turning his head. “Mm... not sure where she went...”

A moment later, the dwarf guard was ambushed by another dwarf. This dwarf had darker hair, a broad grin and was much bigger than Bofur. At least, in height but Bilbo thought they might also have a good deal more muscle than the hat-wearing dwarf. Her hair was braided tightly in twin-braids, kept out of her face by a third braid that wrapped around her head. It almost looked like a crown. Her skin was a touch darker than the other dwarrows, her eyes bright and cheerful. Noticeably, she had knives strapped to her waist.

Bilbo hadn’t noticed any weapons on Bofur. 

Bofur only laughed loudly in surprise.

“Bafarr!” shouted Bofur, then turned his head in Bilbo’s direction. “Here she is. This is Bafarr, your other guard for the journey to Erebor.”

She grinned at Bilbo, but didn’t let Bofur of the headlock she had him in.

“Bafarr, at your service, Master Baggins,” she said, even tried to bow but gave up when Bofur wouldn’t budge. “You about ready to leave? The king wants to leave on time today. We’re expecting a good deal of rain tonight and it’s dreadful to be caught in that.”

While she was talking, Bofur had managed to wriggle his way out of the headlock. He darted out of her next attempt and slung his arm around Bilbo’s shoulders.

“Bafarr and Bofur?” Bilbo asked, his lips twitching in amusement. Bofur snorted next to him.

“Completely a coincidence,” he said, elbowing Bafarr as she came near.

She scowled, shoving him gently. They broke out in a fight. Bilbo ducked under them, eyeing the two dwarrows as they brawled. Not being in the middle of it, he could see that they were playing at fighting. A hobbit patron passed by, ducking as Bafarr lunged for Bofur. They both took notice of the hobbits then.

It ended their fight quickly.

Bilbo noticed then that his mother had disappeared from his side. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the rising panic.

It was not as if he would have to leave his parents immediately but he had a feeling part of this journey would involve distancing himself from them by the time they arrived at Erebor. They’d leave after he married Thorin and, he thought, there was a good chance he might never see them again. He didn’t like that thought and tried to avoid it by laughing at a joke Bofur had just made.

“I heard,” said Bafarr, crossing her arms as she looked around the inn. The earlier commotion had calmed down. “That _Tagyna_ would be travelling with us to Erebor. To represent Ered Luin during the trade negotiations.”

“Really?” Bilbo felt Bofur tense slightly, from where he’d slung his arm back around Bilbo.

“Who’s that?” asked Bilbo.

Bafarr looked at him, considering for a moment before flashing him with a smile full of bright teeth. “She’s the elder daughter of the Lord of Ered Luin. She’s pretty nice, not too bad on the eyes either.”

At that, she winked. Bofur snorted, elbowing his fellow guard while Bilbo frowned.

“I heard that,” drawled a low voice. The three of them whipped around, Bilbo ducked under Bofur’s arm to take a step back.

The dwarf before them had her hands on her hips and her head cocked to the side but she didn’t look annoyed. Like Frerin, she had blonde hair but hers was not intricate like Frerin’s or Thráin’s. It didn’t even look as intricate as Dori’s. It was simply braided over her shoulder and her beard cropped closely. She dressed royally, he thought, a soft red to her clothes, along with a smart fur coat. Unlike the dwarrows he had met, she had a painted up face, her lips rogued in a pretty way. Even from where he stood, Bilbo could see the kohl lining her eyes.

He noted that Bafarr had turned red, noticeable on her dark cheeks.

“Don’t look like that,” teased the dwarf, dropping her hands and walking to them. “I’ve heard it enough.”

She drew her attention onto Bilbo and smiled, dropping her head in a simple bow.

“Tagyna, daughter of Lord Thorbar and Lady Kalyna, at your service,” she announced before looking back up at them. “I will be travelling to Erebor for negotiations. It’s been a few years since I saw my cousins and besides, I cannot wait to see cousin Thorin married.”

“Oh, you’re related to _Thorin_?”

Tagyna nodded, then cocked her head towards the left, where Thráin and Frerin were talking with Bilbo’s parents.

“King Thráin married my father’s sister. Their father also requested that my father settle a group over here in the mountains. That’s how we ended up here, along with several families that traveled with my father. I think everyone is glad we did now.”

She flashed a smile similar to Bafarr’s, baring her teeth. Bilbo couldn’t disagree with her, thought. Without them, the hobbits might be in a worse state than they were.

“I expect any minute-”

“Attention,” Thráin’s voice bellowed throughout the inn. “All those headed to Erebor step aside. We shall be leaving shortly!”

“There we are,” chuckled Tagyna, “I’ve got to check in with Frerin and uncle Thráin. Stick close to these two.”

She mock saluted the two guards before marching over towards where Frerin and Thráin were, throwing an arm around her cousin’s shoulders.

Bilbo looked back to Bofur and Bafarr.

“We should head outside then, shouldn’t we?” he asked, which was followed by Bafarr settling her hand on his shoulder.

“Off we go then, Master Baggins. Have you ever ridden a pony?”

“Have I ever ridden a _pony_?” squawked Bilbo.

Though he had not, a few hours later he could certainly say yes he had and it was an awful experience. He kept sneezing and even with one of his handkerchiefs, which he silently blessed Dori for remembering, it did very little to help him along.

He was miserable.

“I’d much rather walk the entire way,” moped Bilbo, much to the amusement of both of his guards. “You laugh, but hobbits are _not_ meant for ponies.”

“Aye, with all that sneezing, she’s goin’ to throw you off!” Bofur chortled.

“Myrtle won’t throw me off, will you, girl?” muttered Bilbo, patting the pony’s mane awkwardly.

“You named the pony?” laughed Bafarr, tightening her hands on her reins while she chortled along with Bofur. “Oh _, hobbits_!”

Bilbo muttered unhappily under his breath, ignoring both of his guards for the most part as they rode along. Neither had left his side since they’d departed from the Shire. He expected he’d find himself sleeping between the two. It wasn’t an arrangement he looked forward to. He liked his privacy.

He was a little unsure if they were going to be sleeping under a roof that night, and none of the dwarrows had given him a very concrete answer when he’d asked them. Neither of his parents seemed overly upset about the amount of time they’d spent on the backs of ponies. His mother he could understand, but _Bungo_?

Bilbo shook his head, trying to settle more comfortably on the pony with no success. Apparently, ponies were designed to be uncomfortable to ride upon. At least, for hobbits. The dwarrows seemed to have no problems at all.

“I can’t wait,” continued Bafarr, “to tell Prince Thorin his future husband named the ponies!”

“You’re not doing that!” cried Bilbo, almost losing his grip on the reins. He felt his face go red when the two looked at him. “I mean; you _don’t_ need to tell him that.”

The Prince would probably think Bilbo was quite silly. He wanted to make a good impression on his future husband and naming ponies didn’t seem like a good start. At least with regards to how amused the two guards seemed.

Ahead of them, he looked towards the king and the prince. Dori and Bifur, the other kingsguard, were flanking him. Frerin did not have his own guards, as far as Bilbo could tell. Tagyna rode with him, though. Perhaps she would protect her cousin. He wasn’t quite sure how their bloodlines worked. Would she need her own protection?

He shook his head. The hobbit didn’t think himself so important that he needed two guards. Then again, they were keeping an eye on his parents as well and the hobbits could not defend themselves very well.

Tagyna and Frerin could probably both defend themselves easily, without help.

Probably, the king only had guards because of his position. That made sense, Bilbo supposed, and settled in for the ride as much as he could.

As it was, no trouble came down upon them all the way to Bree. It ended up a quick few days, despite the discomfort the ponies offered. Bilbo had never been to Bree himself, though his mother had once. All the dwarves had been there on their way to the Shire, though they seemed reluctant to stay at all.

“Breefolk are not to trust,” explained Frerin, after they had settled in the Prancing Pony for the night they would stay. “Besides, not many people like us. We don’t stay anywhere that isn’t populated by our own folk longer than we have to.”

“You stayed a few nights in the Shire,” pointed out Bilbo, smiling when Frerin faltered.

“You’ve got me there.” Frerin held up his hands in surrender. “Though, hobbits aren’t bad.”

Over the first days of the journey, Bilbo had found himself making quick friends with the prince. Frerin was bright and happy all the time, grinning so much Bilbo wondered if there was possibly any other expression he could make. He was very obviously determined to bond with Bilbo, as he kept saying how they would be family in but a few months.

He couldn’t find it in himself to disagree. That was just the effect of the dwarf.

Besides Frerin, Bilbo was making friends with Bofur and Bafarr. His two guards were boisterous and very similar in personality, though he had noticed a couple of differences. Bofur sometimes had a more serious attitude, especially when they were on the road. He still made jokes, but he kept his eyes on Bilbo all the time.

Bafarr didn’t seem to act like this, but he’d caught her a few times watching him carefully when they were riding through denser forests. Even then, she was not nearly as relaxed as Bofur at any time. He couldn’t quite figure them out.

Bilbo startled out of his thoughts, turning his attention back onto Frerin. The dwarf prince was staring at him, one eyebrow raised. Bofur and Bafarr were discussing shifts of night watch, though Bilbo didn’t know why. He’d ended up in a room with the three of them, which had not been too horrible yet.

“After this,” said Frerin, propping himself up on his elbows. “We’ll not be able to stop at any inns. It’s a journey with no more roofs over our heads until we’re in Erebor.”

“Really?”

Bilbo felt his stomach sink.

“Aye. It is unforutnate, but my father won’t let us stop anywhere else. We could stop in Rivendell but…”

“Dwarrowsand elves don’t get along,” interrupted Bofur, who had sat down by the door. He was whittling a piece of wood into some sort of figure but Bilbo couldn’t make out what it was going to be. Bafarr had gone over to one of the beds, her fingers making quick work of her braids. “King Thráin refuses to stay or go anywhere near Rivendell.”

“Even though it wasn’t the Lord of Rivendell that wronged us.”

Bilbo glanced at Bafarr, raising an eyebrow. Her voice had a bite to it.

“We don’t need to talk about that,” muttered Frerin, before offering Bilbo a cheery smile. “C’mon, let’s sleep. We break fast early tomorrow, then it’s back on the road for us.”

After a moment, Bilbo nodded and climbed into one of the beds. The amount of Bree-hobbits had resulted in several rooms in the Prancing Pony of hobbit size. The dwarrrows liked these rooms much more than the Men sized rooms. They had said as much when Belladonna had demanded them.

His mother quickly was becoming the negotiator of the small band.

He snugged into the bed, closing his eyes as Bofur blew out the candlelight. It was good to have a roof over his head and he tried to relish it for all he could. The next ceilings he saw might very well be Erebor’s.

The morning came quicker than he anticipated and Bilbo found himself groggily awake. Hobbits liked to wake early but only by their own nature. To be forced awake was nastier and he kept rubbing sleep from his eyes as they ate breakfast. He could feel a foul mood stewing. Bungo leaned against Belladonna as they ate.

Dwarves did not hold to the same meal schedule as hobbits did. It was odd and not easily adjustable for him. They would not have another meal until around noon. Bilbo knew this was a norm amongst men, but he had hoped better from the dwarrows.

At least they ate large meals.

Shortly after they’d finished breakfast, they were off on the road again. Bilbo had patted Myrtle’s mane lightly, snuck her an apple from the breakfast table, but  none it helped the situation at all. Bofur laughed when the pony attempted to throw him off for the third time that morning.

Bilbo only felt a tiny satisfaction at throwing a stray pine cone at the dwarf’s head when they stopped for a break.

It took a few days for Bilbo to adjust to living on the road. The dwarrows all seemed used to it, or at least they fell easy into the rhythm of it. None of them complained about sleeping on the ground or the lack of regular meals. They ate when they stopped and the hobbit wasn’t quite sure when he’d had his last bath.

Bilbo found himself secretly loving it. These were things he’d never had been allowed to even think about in the Shire. The dwarves obviously did not think badly of any of these things, if the way they barely mentioned any of it was an indication. When he’d brought it up initially, Bofur had shrugged it off.

They were less concerned with the extraneous parts of their journey. To Bilbo, they were focused primarily on arriving at Erebor in a timely manner.

On a particular night, they’d stopped on an outcropping of rock. They seemed to be close to some mountains or at least large hills. Regardless of what they were, it gave them protection from the weather and from any unkind forces. A bit of a comfort, Bilbo thought as he sat with the rock to his back.

They hadn’t run into anything unsavory. Though the dwarves were always on the lookout, they’d seen nothing and it relieved Bilbo that the outside world didn’t appear nearly as dangerous as it had been made out to be. Whoever had come up with such tales had only wanted to keep hobbits from running about all of Arda.

After he’d laid his bedroll down, Bofur and Bafarr had set themselves up on either side of him, as they always did. It was becoming such a routine that Bilbo only smiled at them as he settled to sit on it.

Dinner had already been had, the fire was dying and a majority of the company was on their way to sleep. Bilbo himself was thinking of how nice sleep would be after a long day of sitting on the ponies. The ground had become less and less uncomfortable.

A shrill howl cut through the air, startling Bilbo and causing him to buck forward and sprawl across his bedroll. Bofur was already helping him up before he could really register what had happened. Bafarr stood up, one of her hands going to her waist where her knives were.

Across their camp, King Thráin had risen and his eyes swept across the inky night.

“W-was that a wolf?” whispered Bungo, his hand fisted in his wife’s skirt. Belladonna looked paler than normal.

“No,” grunted Thráin, eyes flicking over the dark once again before turning back towards the company. “That was a warg’s howl, which means an orc pack may be nearby. We’ll keep a keener eye out tonight. Move the hobbits into the center, just in case.”

Bofur and Bafarr urged Bilbo into the middle of group, until the three of them were directly in the middle. Belladonna gave her son a wary smile, with Bungo curled close to her side. Dori had been keeping an eye on them, as well as Bifur (who, as Bofur had told him, was Bofur’s cousin but he didn’t speak Westron).

“Y’alright?” questioned Bofur, noticing how close Bungo was to his wife. His father’s face also had a good deal of uneasiness in the expression.

“Orcs,” murmured Belladonna, petting Bungo’s hair. “Even with the dwarrows’ help during the Fell Winter, we suffered a great deal from orcs and wolves.”

“We’ll keep you safe,” said Thráin gruffly.

He’d come nearer them. He had his hand on his sword, his eyes turned onto the horizon. Despite how old the dwarf appeared to be, the king never acted as though his old age affected him. Dwarrows were a very hearty folk, as Bilbo was coming to understand. But his expression had changed drastically. The general worry had been replaced by a hardened worry and determination.

Perhaps the dwarrows of Erebor had not fully understood what had happened during the Fell Winter. If that was true, they were coming to understand by the reaction of the hobbits.

That might explain a couple of things.

Bilbo startled slightly when Tagyna sat down near them. He was surprised by her presence, as she had not spent much time around him during the journey. Mostly, he’d seen her conversing with her uncle and sticking closer to the royal dwarrows. She had a look about her that Bilbo could not quite describe. Her face was tight and she offered Thráin a tighter smile until he turned back to making rounds about the company.

“How much do you think we could teach hobbits while we’re on the road?”

Bofur tilted his head toward her, raising an eyebrow. “Teach them what?”

Tagyna patted a knife on her hip. “How to defend themselves. It might be a good idea, especially if we are unfortunate enough to run into an orc pack. We’ll always keep them in the middle, but in case…”

The two dwarves exchanged a few more words, though they’d slipped into Khuzdul. Bafarr smiled at Bilbo, gesturing for him to lay down.

“You should sleep. It’s unlikely that the orcs, if there are any, are close enough to ambush us.”

Somehow, he did find sleep amongst the whispers of the company and the hard syllables of the dwarves’ talking. Worry ate as his dreams, drawing up old memories of distorted orcs and wolves.

When he woke, it felt as though the threat of the orcs had passed. They enjoyed a light breakfast, though his stomach hungered for more. Bafarr, Bofur, and Tagyna were all discussing in Khuzdul. The harsh tones and words were lost on Bilbo.

He listened in interest, though. They spoke fast, the words lost to Bilbo’s ears even as he could not understand them. After hours on the road listening to them talk, though, he’d started picking out a common word. At least, he thought it was a word he kept hearing. It might be a phrase, but it was a short sound.

_Zantulbasân_ , the word he kept hearing. Sometime, it sounded different, like there were different vowels, or an extra sound, but he couldn’t completely decipher it from the rest of their words. All he could tell that it was frequent in their conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul:  
> Zantulbasân - hobbits (Bilbo is also hearing Zantulbasn, the singular form) 
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day! I've uploaded TWO chapters for today, partly as a little gift and because I'm excited to get us all to Erebor (unfortunately, we have at least another chapter or two before that). 
> 
> If anyone's curious about Bafarr or Tagyna, ask away! They're both OCs of mine, though Bafarr has less backstory than Tagyna. Also if it's not clear, the company consists of: Thrain, Frerin, Tagyna, Bofur, Bifur, Ori, Dori, several other unnamed dwarves, and the Bagginses.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and co. continue on their way. Unfortunately, they run into some trouble. A familiar, friendly face saves them. Bilbo bonds with Frerin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read chapter two, make sure to go back! I've uploaded two chapters today :)!

They’d been travelling for a few weeks and Bilbo found himself wondering if they would ever see any other civilization at all. He knew they were avoiding the elves, which was disappointing. Still, Bilbo thought they might run into at least another town of Men. But apparently they were not anywhere near one. As far as he could tell, at least. He sighed, watching the road ahead of them as their company consumed it each trot of the ponies.

Bilbo startled a little when his mother and her pony suddenly trotted past them, up towards the king. They’d been riding closer to him and his guards today. Before Bilbo could process his mother’s sudden appearance in front of him, her voice rang out in an angry tone.

“Your highness!”

Bilbo watched the dwarf turn his head in surprised towards the small hobbit. The king’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“Missus Belladonna,” he began, only to be interrupted as she continued.

“Your avoidance of the elves in Rivendell is ridiculous! They would offer us a few days’ rest, which we all need. I know Lord Elrond, _personally,_ and I think you are acting like, well, like a faunt!”

Bilbo’s mouth fell open in surprise. In the time his mother had uttered the sentence, Bungo had ridden up next to him. The older hobbit chuckled, shocking Bilbo further. He had not expected that reaction from his father. How much had this short leg of the journey changed him? A Baggins would be shocked greatly by Belladonna’s actions. Not only because she was speaking out against the leader of the group, but because she was scolding a king.

Thrain stared at her, his mouth working wordlessly. He probably had not expected any of this. He finally formed a coherent thought to voice.

“How do you know that we need more than a night’s rest?”

“I’ve been talking with a few of your dwarrows, and it appears that we will soon be passing a long mountain range. It will not be easy going, for us hobbits. I’ve been told it will be a couple of days’ travel and with no suitable area to sleep.” Belladonna crossed her arms. “I demand we stop at Rivendell.”

Thrain frowned down at her. “I appreciate your insight in this matter, but I am not changing my mind. We will continue on this path. The mountain’s pass will not be as difficult as you are making it out to be.”

Then, he rode ahead before Belladonna could form a rebuttal. Frerin, who had fallen back to Bilbo’s other side, sighed in irritation. His eyebrows drew together before he glanced at Bilbo.

“He’s stubborn. I do not think anything will move him.”

“Like stone,” Bungo said, his face pinched. “It would take great work and time to move him, which we do not have.”

“Aye,” Frerin agreed, his expression changing in amusement. “You are right on that, mister Bungo. Do you have skill with words?”

“I do,” said Bungo, cheerfully, but he said nothing more on it as Belladonna fell back to where they were. Her expression was tight and he turned immediately to tend to his wife’s hurt pride.

The company grew quite after that. They rode along and were looking about for good shelter as a weariness began to overtake the company. It was not quite time to stop but Thráin had admitted they were making good time. If they could find a good spot of trees, they might as well take a breather from riding all day long, every single day.

Plus, the king might have thought it would pacify Belladonna.

Bilbo himself had almost given up hope that they would stop any time soon. As they came down a slope, one of the dwarrows caught sight of a structure. Once they’d rode nearer, Bilbo could tell that it was an abandoned, and quite burnt down, farm house. It made him weary but Thráin signaled for them to stop there. The trees around offered a good place to stay for the night, even with the budding apprehension from the scorched house.

“Are you sure?” asked Frerin, as he dismounted. His eyebrows were drawn together, his eyes trained on the burnt house.

“Unless you’d like to keep riding until another suitable place crops up,” said Thráin, leveling his son with a hard look. It seemed that his anger would be taken out on everyone. “I am, Frerin.”

After a moment, the prince shrugged and came over towards Bilbo, who was struggling off his pony. Bofur and Bafarr, for once, had strolled away from him to inspect the area they’d be staying the night.

“I don’t like the feel,” muttered Frerin, offering Bilbo a hand. The hobbit gratefully accepted it, then sent the dwarf prince a questioning look. As he set his feet happily back down on the ground, the prince continued. “I can’t explain it. Intuition, do you understand?”

“I think I do.”

Bilbo had felt the same uneasiness that Frerin seemed to feel. Something felt off about the place. Yet, he was relieved that they wouldn’t be upon their ponies for the rest of the day. Time to rest, he could certainly be grateful for that and push other worries out of his mind.

He glanced up as Tagyna joined them. She looked as skeptical as Frerin, glancing back towards her uncle. Then she smiled strangely at Bilbo, her teeth hidden. It wasn’t usual of her smiles. Bilbo could see a tension in her shoulders, as she scanned the area.

“Stick close to us, tonight. I don’t feel good about this place myself.”

As it turned out, Bilbo couldn’t stay close to the two dwarrows. Thráin assigned them to watch over the ponies for the night. Neither were eager but under their king’s command they could not outright refuse the order.

Bilbo had been pacing around the camp, too jittery to enjoy his dinner. He’d tried to eat with his parents but even then, they were also not eager to be staying and sleeping near an abandoned home. Hobbits were odd about such things and he could see the worry in Bungo’s eyes. He tried smiling reassuringly at his son.

“It’s only a night, my boy, and we have all the dwarrows to protect us.”

Bofur had been the cook for the night and he called Bilbo over from his pacing. He gladly went, curious as to what he could want.

“There you are,” he beamed and held up two bowls. “Could you take these to Prince Frerin and Tagyna? They’d probably appreciate it.”

After accepting the bowls with a quick nod, Bilbo realized he wasn’t quite sure where they’d left the ponies. Or at least he knew he was going to have trouble navigating in the dark. As he had quickly learned, dwarves could see fine in the dark. A trait that helped with mining, Bofur had explained one night, but it was also plenty helpful at night.

It took a couple of tries but Bilbo eventually found his way to where they’d tied up the ponies. Frerin and Tagyna were standing still, staring at the ponies in minor confusion.

“Hello!” cried Bilbo but neither responded. He paused a little short of them, the bowls lifted higher. “Everything alright?”

“We had quite a number of ponies…” said Frerin slowly, glancing toward Tagyna.

“And we are missing a couple.” She finished for him.

They both looked toward Bilbo, noticing the bowls and then actually realizing Bilbo was standing there.

“We’re also fairly sure about what took them and you should go back to the camp,” continued Tagyna, gesturing the way back towards their encampment.

“Oh no,” said Bilbo. “I’m not! What is it? Orcs?”

They hadn’t heard any wargs since the other night but ever since then all the dwarrows had been on the lookout for any signs at all. As of late, they hadn’t seen much at all. It had been nicely quiet, in Bilbo’s opinion.

“Worse,” muttered the prince, a sneer in his voice. “Trolls.”

“Trolls?” Bilbo’s voice rose slightly. He’d read plenty of nightmare tales, courtesy of Belladonna, about trolls. “We, we should tell Thráin!”

The two dwarves exchanged glances and then shook their heads.

“I’m not sure it would be wise,” replied Frerin. “He’s not always rational and we cannot just run in there. It wouldn’t end well for us. Trolls could overpower us just with their _size_.”

“But we can’t…” Bilbo fumbled for words and gestured uselessly with the bowls, but his point got across to both the dwarrows,

“He’s right,” said Tagyna, frowning.

Though the dwarves offered no solution. Bilbo sighed and made a decision that he couldn’t believe he was even considering. It was perhaps the most un-hobbit act he’d ever thought of.

“Let me go.”

“What?” said Frerin sharply. “No-”

“We hobbits are very good at sneaking and can go unnoticed by many if we choose! I’m the best choice and I can save the ponies, then we can sneak up on the trolls if you go tell your father right now!”

Frerin looked apprehensive, but Tagyna nodded in agreement.

“Aye, I think that Bilbo has a good plan. We’ll tail you until you make it past them and then we’ll gather the others. Just stay out from under their feet. We don’t need a squashed hobbit.”

Bilbo offered her a weak smile before creeping along in the direction that the light of fire came from. He could hear Frerin and Tagyna behind, their feet louder than his. It was a bit annoying. He stopped, crouching and then glancing back at the dwarves.

The camp was in sight. There were three trolls, fighting over the stew they were making. Bilbo breathed in quietly. They were all rather ugly and far larger than Bilbo had thought. He shuddered in fear.

“Okay,” he managed, quiet enough. “I’ll go. Look, the ponies are right there, some ways from the trolls. Go get King Thráin and the others.”

Bilbo waited for them to be far enough away and then quickly, quietly made his way over to the ponies. He had made it over fairly easily and hid behind one of the ponies, quieting his breath down. The trolls were loud enough that they covered any noise he would have accidentally made anyway.

However, he discovered a dilemma right away. The ropes trapping the ponies were knotted enough that he couldn’t slip them. He had no knife or sword or axe. His eyes moved over the trolls and he noticed one had some sharp weapon of sorts. If he could snatch that, he might be able to use it cut the ponies free.

He crept forward, looking up and watching the trolls. All he had to do was wait for them to be distracted with their cooking. The one with the knife or sword or whatever it was seemed even dumber than the others. It probably wouldn’t notice him stealing the blade! He need only an opening.

Unfortunately, Bilbo’s plan did not go well. He’d almost grabbed it when he found himself snatched up and dangled.

From there, everything worsened. His quick lies were not believable to the trolls and they were intent on hurting him or eating him, both of which he did not like. Before much could happen, however, Frerin appeared with a low growl.

“Drop him!”

The trolls seemed mightily confused but then threw Bilbo at Frerin, knocking them both to the ground. For their luck, though, the rest of the dwarrows came charging in as Bilbo scrambled up to his feet. Frerin drew his sword up, charging back in with the other dwarves.

To his surprise, Bilbo spotted his parents creeping along the outside of the trolls’ camp. They spotted Bilbo and he ran to them.

“We have to free the ponies!” Bilbo said quickly.

Belladonna stared at him in surprise. “Bilbo! There is a fight going on, we cannot do that now.”

“But-” Bilbo started, only to be snatched up by one of the trolls. He let out an undignified shriek.

His sudden capture resulted in the dwarrows being forced to surrender their weapons and the fight. Which then resulted in all of them, hobbits included, being bundled up in sacks. How the trolls had so many, Bilbo didn’t know.

Bilbo struggled slightly, dread welling in his stomach. His mother and father were also sacked, laid next to him. It seemed their doom was upon them. No one would know what had happened to them.

A sudden idea came to Bilbo and he struggled up, catching the attention of at least one of the trolls.

“Wait!”

The three trolls were certainly focused on him now and he swallowed. It scared him but he reminded himself that he could potentially save the company.

“You... you can’t cook dwarves like _that._ ”

It quickly turned into a debate between Bilbo and the trolls, but for his luck, his mother realized he was attempting to play for time and she joined in. He felt relief wash over him. She could work better with spoken words than him.

“Oh yes, he’s quite right about that,” shouted Belladonna, though she couldn’t manage to get up. “That’s just a poor cooking choice.”

He might have snickered at his mother saying such a thing, if they were not in the midst of a dangerous situation.

“What would you know about cookin’ dwarves?” scowled one of the trolls.

“Well! What do you think we have all these dwarves for?” snarked Belladonna, shifting slightly. Her confidence set the trolls into confusion and more debate amongst themselves. For their overall luck, good or not, the dwarrows weren’t interrupting. He hadn’t glanced back at them but he could imagine outrage or the like on their faces in the beginning. Hopefully, they had realized what they hobbits were doing.

The trolls were turning back towards Bilbo, their eyes narrowed. They seemed to be slowly figuring out that the hobbits were playing them. But before much could happen, the hobbit saw a tall figure appear on top of a rock above them. The silhouette sparked familiarity in his memory but he couldn’t figure it out.

“The dawn shall take you all!” cried the figure, slamming a staff down and splitting the rock he stood upon in two. The trolls had no time to react as sunlight spilled into the clearing and very suddenly turned them all to stone.

Bilbo stared in astonishment, his mouth opening as Gandalf the Grey came down toward them. In a matter of moments, the dwarrows were struggling out of the sacks while Gandalf assessed the group.

“I heard,” he said, turning to Thráin who had stood up slowly after making sure his son was alright. “That there was a group of dwarves travelling from the Shire to Erebor. I did not expect you to be among them, my friend.”

“We are escorting these hobbits with us,” answered Thráin, nodding towards Belladonna, Bilbo and Bungo, who had huddled together now. Bofur stood nearby, shaking his head and muttering angrily to himself. “It’s, well you see, Tharkûn, I am marrying a hobbit to my son, Thorin.”

“Thorin!” said Gandalf, smiling. “I’m sure that will aid him with his temper.”

“So we hope,” chuckled Thráin, before walking over towards the hobbits with Gandalf. When Gandalf recognized Belladonna, he smiled wider.

“My dear Belladonna,” said the wizard before leaning down to hug her. “Why, don’t tell me, young Bilbo is the hobbit to be married?”

“He is,” huffed Bungo, but when Gandalf turned to look at him, he smiled warmly. “Hullo, Gandalf.”

“This is a surprise,” amended Gandalf, offering his hand to Bungo before ruffling Bilbo’s hair in a familiar gesture. Then he looked toward Thráin. “I am even gladder that I found you before you were turned into a troll stew.”

“As are we,” sighed Thráin. “Now, there’s a matter I’d like to talk to you about, these trolls…”

“Yes, it does seem a tad strange that they would come down from the mountains…”

“Surely, they could not travel that far without being turned to stone. Do you suppose they might have a cave?”

“That is possible,” agreed Gandalf after a moment’s hesitation. “I imagine it is not too far and we'll smell it before we see it. Keep a keen nose out.”

“Oh that's just wonderful,” grumbled Bofur suddenly from Bilbo's right. He and Bafarr had snuck up on their charge. “I'm never lettin’ you do anything _that_ stupid again.”

“You wouldn't be able to stop him,” said Bafarr. “He's almost as stubborn as Prince Thorin.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. _Dwarrows_.

As they followed Thráin and Gandalf, he noticed that there was quite a forest out here. It felt nice, despite the previous presence of trolls. His nose twitched as they drew nearer to the trolls’ cave. Gandalf was right, the stench of it was over powering. He brought a hand up, grimacing but neither of his guards did.

“Not the worst I've had to smell,” explained Bofur.

The rest of the company had entered the cave but Bilbo hung back. He had no desire to enter such a horrid place. However, Bofur and Bafarr looked like they wanted to go in, so Bilbo stood in the entrance. That way, they could keep an eye on him as well as explore the troll hoard. His parents stood by him as well. Belladonna had an interested glint in her eye but she didn’t leave them.

Further in, Bilbo could see Thráin holding up a beautiful sword and inspecting it. He said something to Gandalf, who nodded and replied with something else. They were too far away for Bilbo to hear them, however.

Then, Frerin came out of the cave. He beamed when he saw Bilbo and walked over to him.

“I've got something for you,” explained Frerin, reaching inside his tunic. When Bilbo started to protest, the young prince glared little at him. “It was partially my fault we were all almost eaten by trolls. I shouldn’t have let you go on your own.”

The hobbit relented, watching as Frerin pulled a good sized dagger from somewhere in his tunic. To Bilbo, it was bigger than a dwarf’s dagger, though it could not a full sword. It had runes carved along the blade and a single jewel at the end of the handle. It was quite beautiful, but likely just as practical.

“You need to be able to defend yourself. I'll help teach you how to use this,” he said. “See these runes? They're protection runes, a prayer to Mahal before battle. My brother made this for me. It has a brother blade, but it will still serve you well.”

“Oh,” said Bilbo quietly. He had no idea what to say but he tightened his hand on the handle. This had been made by Thorin. He ran his fingers over the runes, swallowing. It was as though his future husband had a hand in his life, now.

“Keep it on you, for now. I'll start teaching you in the next few days and you can always ask either of your guards for help. They'll know their way around weapons.”

“Thank you, Frerin,” he finally said. “I, I really appreciate this.”

Frerin simply grinned in response, slapping him gently on the back.

Gandalf and Thráin had been talking in low voices but quite out of nowhere the King let out an angry shout and stormed past the pair. Bilbo stared in surprise before looking towards the Wizard.

“He refuses respite in Rivendell.”

“I will not go there!”

“Please, King Thráin, it is a good idea to stop there. You were almost eaten by trolls, for goodness sake!”

Thráin had opened his mouth but it snapped shut when he noticed Belladonna walking toward them. She had her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed tight.

“Lord Elrond is a good friend of mine, as I have said, and after almost being eaten alive, I demand we take rest in Rivendell!”

Her eyes were daring the dwarf king to defy her this time. For whatever reason, the king was frightened enough of the Took hobbit. Bilbo found it amusing, watching his mother order a dwarf king about. The dwarf and hobbit had a quiet stare off before Thráin bowed his head.

“Very well, we will have a _short_ rest in Rivendell, if these elves are so hospitable. How are we to get there?”

As it turned out, Gandalf knew a sort of shortcut. They walked for quite a time before they found themselves moving underground. Bilbo quickly realized they were within a mountain. He knew Rivendell lay partially hidden from prying eyes. One had to have an idea of how to get there, to actually get there.

Very soon they were walking down into the valley. When they entered the small elf kingdom, there was an elf stood waiting for them. He held himself primly, staring at the dwarves but offered a slight smile to the hobbits.

“I am Lindir,” he introduced himself. “Lord Elrond will be along shortly, if you are wishing to see him.”

Thráin nodded, leaning back and then glancing over their company quickly. Gandalf was smiling, murmuring with Belladonna. Bilbo shifted closer to Bofur and Bafarr, feeling uneasy for a moment. Elves were taller than he had imagined and it startled Bilbo at their appearance.

They did not wait too long for Lord Elrond. He came sweeping down the stairs with a cheerful but composed smile of welcome.

Both Gandalf and Belladonna were eager to say hello to the Lord. He welcomed them into the city of Rivendell, though it wasn't really a city, to Bilbo’s eyes.

Bilbo was quite happy at the prospect of staying in Rivendell for a few days. He'd be able to bathe, a thought that made him feel better about everything overall. They might not see another civilization until Erebor after this but at least they'd be in Rivendell for a short time. And from what he’d heard, after they crossed the Misty Mountains, they would nearly be at Erebor. Perhaps there would be other towns they could stop at closer to the mountain.

A burst of happiness overwhelmed Bilbo. He’d been wandering around the elven city by himself for some time. It was lovely. He knew it was unlikely that he would see all of it, but he indulged himself for the time being. It couldn’t hurt. Besides, he could seem more cultured if he’d been around the elves.

Bilbo wondered if Erebor was as breathtaking as the valley.

He found the company later, joining them as they talked with the Lord Elrond. Bofur had apparently noticed his absence again, scolding him before getting caught up in another confusing conversation with Bafarr.

At some point Elrond had led Bilbo's parents, Gandalf and Thráin deeper into his settlement. Beside Bilbo, his guards were arguing quietly.

Bilbo slipped away from them, headed for Frerin. The prince was admiring the structures of Rivendell but he beamed at Bilbo.

“Sort of glad we ended up here,”” said the prince. “It’s nice for a break of some sort. Especially since we're headed for the Misty Mountains next, then over them.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Depends. There are circumstances but eh, I don’t want to be the one to get into those situations. You want to learn how to wield your weapon?”

“Oh, yes, yes I do.” Bilbo nodded eagerly, his hand going to the knife now at his side.

Frerin beamed, looking around curiously. He made a move towards the stairs then paused and looked back at Bilbo. “Oh! Can you see well?”

“The moonlight is fine. Besides, shouldn’t I be able to fight when it’s hard to see too?”

The dwarf chuckled at that then gestured for Bilbo to follow him down the stairs. They walked to an empty courtyard. It was also lit by a couple of lamps, which gave Bilbo a little more sight. Frerin nodded approvingly.

“I’m going to show you basic defense, how to wield it properly,” he said, pulling out the dagger’s twin. The runes on it, however, were different.

The prince noticed him looking at it curiously and he beamed. “These runes are the ones for brother. That’s why I gave you that one. You need the prayer of protection more than I do.”

Then, he began showing Bilbo the proper way to hold the dagger, as well as how to hold other blades. It wasn’t too complicated, though he didn’t like the way it felt in his hand. It was too foreign.

“Looser,” he said, tapping Bilbo’s wrist. “You want to be able to move it, Bilbo. Otherwise, you could hurt yourself if you try and use it like this.”

With a grumble, Bilbo adjusted his grip. He couldn’t figure out what Frerin meant when it came to loosening his wrist or how he held himself. It seemed to be an easy concept for the dwarf, but not for him. The prince moved around, looking about until he came back with a basket of what looked to be fruit.

“You can practice with these. Be careful, though. I’m going to hold them and I like the use of my hands.”

Bilbo chuckled, watching as Frerin picked up one of the strange fruits. The hobbit didn’t recognize them.

“I’ll show you the motion first, alright?” The dwarf prince hand Bilbo the fruit, instructing him to hold it up.

He started a little when the prince effortlessly stabbed it. He did not pierce through it, which was a relief. Bilbo also liked the use of his hands.

“Now you repeat it,” Frerin said, picking up another piece of fruit and holding it in the same manner. He held it lower, at an easy reach for Bilbo.

It took them many tries until Bilbo could at least stab in a way that Frerin deemed acceptable.

“It’s not good fighting form,” he explained, eating one of the fruits as they took a break, “but it’s better than nothing. If anything comes at you, you can do this. Hopefully, you won’t need to. I’ll teach you how to block with the dagger too.”

They stood back up, Frerin taking back out his dagger. “I want you to try and block me.”

When he moved to attack Bilbo, instincts kicked in and the hobbit dodged out of the way instead. He stumbled on a loose rock, catching himself on one of the columns. When he turned back around, the dwarf stared at him in amusement.

“That’s good too, but not what I was looking for,” he said, walking over to Bilbo, “dodging only works the first time, usually, if that’s all you’re doing. Most enemies will be prepared to keep attacking until they hit you.”

Bilbo grimaced but nodded. Frerin held up his dagger. “When I come down with the blade, block it with yours. Make sure you keep your fingers out of the way.”

It took another set of tries for Bilbo to catch onto the method of blocking attacks. But he found this one easier to train himself in. His form, Frerin had commented, was not great but they weren’t as worried about that. If he could defend himself from a few attacks, then they would be alright.

After all, the hobbit would not be without his guards during the journey.

Still, he was growing tired. Bilbo had no idea how long they had been doing this for but it felt like it had been a couple of hours. Frerin watched him for a moment before dropping a hand on his shoulder.

“Then we shall continue tomorrow. How about it?”

That seemed agreeable enough and Bilbo nodded, turning to look around Rivendell again. Everything about the valley was breathtaking. It was not the same beauty as the Shire but Bilbo found himself thinking it might have come close, if he could compare the two. However, they _were_ starkly different, hardly comparable.

He wondered how different dwarrow architecture looked-- both from the Elven valley and the Shire. It had to be quite different. He couldn’t imagine they would be anything alike.

The contrast between elves and dwarrows was shocking, at least to Bilbo. He’d not met many folk outside of the Shire. Dwarrows were stubborn, he could already see that (even though Thráin had bent under Belladonna’s glare). They were a hardy folk and they did not seem to trust very easily. Elves on the underhand were light and open. Though these were the only elves he had met, he wasn’t sure that other elves weren’t just as kind. Lord Elrond seemed a good example of elves overall.

Bilbo hoped, at least.

Beside him, Frerin let out a sigh. The hobbit turned toward him, raising a curious eyebrow in question.

“I’m sure you noticed that we do not get along very well,” said the prince, then elaborated to Bilbo’s relief. “The elves and us, I mean. You saw how my father did not wish to come here.”

“Oh yes, what was that about?”

“It is difficult to explain; I mean…” Frerin looked lost for words. They stood in silence for several minutes before he seemed to gather the ones he wanted. “When I was younger, much _much_ younger, Erebor was attacked. We would have been more prepared but it was very unexpected. See, a large group of Orcs, led by a pale orc, Azog the Defiler, had come through Dale first. We hadn’t heard a thing, and though we were able to overrun them, it cost a great deal to our kingdom. We looked to our neighbors, the elves of the Greenwood, but they would not come to our aid.”

Frerin’s face turned grim.

“My father and grandfather have not forgiven the Lord of those woods, nor his people. They hold their distrust for elves in _all_ elves, not only those that live in the Greenwood. I fear my brother may be the same.”

He looked at Bilbo then. “Lord Elrond has done nothing wrong. He is too far away to have offered any aid to Erebor in the first place, but as he is an Elf, his presence alone causes my father aggravation.”

“That is…” Bilbo furrowed his brow then shook his head. “That is ridiculous!”

“I know it is,” said Frerin, his face hardening. “I don’t really wholly understand why they think that way. But I suppose elves are like that as well. They all think badly of us. We’ve never gotten along; this has only worsened it. Especially between the elves of the Greenwood and the dwarrows of Erebor.”

Bilbo shook his head, looking down at his feet. Was Thorin so stubborn?

Frerin looked up towards the moon then offered Bilbo a small smile. He’d tucked his hands behind his back. He didn’t look very satisfied with the fact that this was how it was.

“Regardless. It’s a bit late. I’ll see you first thing in the morning for training. I can at least show you the basics of sword fighting. Basic _defense_ , I hope.”

The hobbit watched the dwarf prince depart then sighed. At least he had something to look forward to over the next days. Surely learning to sword fight would help him appear more impressive to Thorin when they met. Not many hobbits knew how to use weapons besides their natural ability with slingshots.

Morning came sharp, shocking Bilbo awake. He lay there for a few moments, wondering what had woken him up. Perhaps actually being under a roof had left him comfortable enough and he’d just startled awake because of it.

That thought had him thinking about slipping back into the pleasant feeling of sleep.

However, there was an insistence that he had to stay awake that nagged at his mind. He opened his eyes, frowning. Then he yelped.

Frerin was above him, grinning slightly though there was worry etched into the lines about his eyes. He didn’t look that happy.

“Oh,” managed Bilbo and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes quickly. “Are we truly getting up this early to train? I thought you might at least let me eat breakfast.”

But the dwarf shushed him, standing up. Bilbo stood up, his eyes bleary still. The dwarf was not dressed like they’d be there for a few days. He was dressed back up in his travelling clothes and he had his bag slung over his shoulder.

Bilbo stared at him and then frowned. Before he could say anything, Frerin gestured from him to follow out of the room. He was quiet until they were further down along the hallway.

“My father decided we shall leave now. I do not know what prompted him but as I said last night, he does not like the elves. It may be just that alone.”

“You don’t think it is,” pointed out Bilbo.

He was glad he’d fallen asleep in his clothes now. It had been something he was hoping would not happen but then it had. He’d been so tired and the bed had been very comfortable. At least now he did not have to worry about mucking about in his nightshirt. That would be highly embarrassing and Bilbo wanted to preserve some of his modesty around the dwarves.

“He would enjoy a couple days respite from traveling as much as the rest of us. I know him well and he is putting up a front for the elves,” said Frerin, then paused. “When we return to Erebor, you will get to know my father better. Even acting as King, he is much different than he is right now. He wants to impress upon you, I think, what it will be like to deal with Thorin.”

“And is he doing a good job of that?” Bilbo ignored the “dealing with” part of the sentence.

“Partly. Though I think he is too lenient to be Thorin in this setting,” chuckled Frerin. “My brother is quite like our father. He will act tough and stubborn around those he believes look up to him, but he is… a very kind person. My sister and I tease him all the time about how soft he is inside.”

“Why?” Bilbo wrinkled his nose.

“We dwarves were made from stone,” said Frerin. “From that we like to say we are like stone. For Thorin to be the way he is, it is odd. He acts tough as stone but inside he is nothing like stone. It is quite endearing, actually. And he would hate me for telling you so!”

Though he kept quiet, Bilbo smiled to himself. Thorin did not sound so bad, if this was how his brother described him. Bilbo sort of thought his own father was like that. Bungo acted very much like any Baggins but he tended to be more caring. Besides that, his father had changed a great deal since he had met Belladonna.

They arrived where they’d met Lord Elrond the day before. The rest of their company was gathered and Bofur immediately headed for the hobbit. Frerin waved a quick goodbye before going to join his father’s side.

“I’m keepin’ a close eye on you while we’re going through those mountains. They’re nasty and I don’t want anything to happen to you,” announced the dwarf, then threw his arm around Bilbo’s shoulders.

“Where’s Bafarr going to be then?”

“She’s been assigned to watch over your mother and father. King Thráin seems to think you’re fairly capable of defending yourself enough to only need me and,” Bofur lowered his voice. “I saw Frerin give you the dagger, so you do have a way to defend even if you don’t know how to use it properly yet.”

“He was going to teach me more,” protested Bilbo. Bofur shrugged then dropped his arm.

The company had started moving. It would be a while before they arrived in the mountains but Bilbo did not know that. Instead, he shouldered his bag before they started their trek out of the valley and back into wilderness.

He would miss Rivendell dearly, but as he looked forward, he felt his heart beat in his chest. Each step brought them closer to Erebor, and to Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot is happening! The pacing of the journey is a bit fast, but I did want to give some time to see Bilbo bonding with the dwarves, as well as bring in some canon objects (like Orcrist, Sting, we'll see some other things pop up). Initially they weren't to leave Rivendell until the next chapter. However, my editing ended up fitting it better at the end of this chapter. We'll be seeing the Misty Mountains next. 
> 
> And a wild wizard appeared! Also: I really like the fanon of Belladonna having gone to Rivendell at some point, though I've no idea where it originated from. I look forward to everyone's reactions to this and the previous chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo bonds a bit more with his future brother-in- law and the Company faces a lot of trouble. Also, something is discovered.

He couldn’t tell how long it had been since they’d left Rivendell but it felt like a couple of weeks or maybe even only a couple of days.

Time was hard to tell on the road. The dwarves themselves seemed to know where they were going but not at what speed they were. Thráin’s only response to questions about time was that as long as they made it past the Misty Mountains before winter, they were fine. Frerin had mentioned an issue with mountain passes, Bilbo recalled. He supposed snows might block them from traversing over the mountains.  

That also applied to the mountains closer to Erebor but none of the dwarves seemed as concerned with that.

Unfortunately, Bilbo had to trust their judgement on this. He knew nothing about traveling, especially when it came to the seasonal effects. When they did finally reach the mountains, he wanted to cry from relief. According to Thráin, it would take at least a couple days to cross the mountains.

But they were likely to be safe from any unwanted forces while in the mountains. They’d not seen or heard any more orcs, nor wargs. So long, he’d said, as they were not already in the mountains. This was unlikely though, Frerin had supplied. He hadn’t noticed any tracks or signs on their way.

Frerin had said that they would have. Orcs weren’t going to wait for them in the mountains, where dwarves thrived. Besides, waiting for them did seem silly. Why wait for an ambush like that when you could attack a group out in the open?

Bilbo didn’t like thinking that way but it was true. From what the dwarves had been saying. That also meant their exiting of the mountains could be dangerous, but he hadn’t heard any worry about it yet.  

It was shortly after they’d entered the mountains that everything took a turn for the worse. They had yet to find an opening of a cave in the mountains to spend the night. But more than that, they were facing a nasty storm. Every so often, thunder would crack and the sky would light up briefly. The downpour was the worst of it, as far as Bilbo was concerned, for it came along with a harsh wind that had them clinging to the side of the mountain. They were soaked and slipping against the rock, which did not help any when it was as wet as they were.

A cry from Frerin left them all with relief. He’d found a cave.

“Caves in the mountains are seldom unoccupied,” grumbled Thráin, coming up to his son. “Search all the way to the back first, then we shall take shelter for the night.”

Even more to their relief, Frerin reappeared at the entrance of the cave with a grin. He’d searched as far back as he could, even touched the back wall before coming back with the all clear. They could escape the rain and storming for the night. It would likely be gone in the morning.

Thráin ushered them all inside, waiting until he was sure the entire company had made it inside safely. Then he looked around, gesturing that everyone should find somewhere to lay for the night. 

“We’ll stay the night, then move in the morning, as long as this storm has stopped,” said Thráin, then walked over and sat down with his son. No one made a suggestion for a fire. They didn’t want to attract any unwanted visitors.

It wouldn’t be a good rest but it would at least be a reprieve from the horrid weather. With a soft sigh, Bilbo sat himself down, unrolling his bedroll. Bofur sat down next to him, pulling out the piece of wood he’d been whittling at over the journey.

“I’ve got first watch,” explained Bofur. “Shouldn’t be too bad, I think.”

“I hope not,” mumbled Bilbo, curling onto his side.

Very soon, all the dwarves were asleep. Bilbo could easily tell, as many of them snored loudly or had stopped moving about as you did before falling asleep. He couldn’t get comfortable enough for any but he did drift into a light sleep.

That did not last long at all. Bilbo did not notice at first, as he was slipping deeper into sleep. His mind focused on that fact, that he’d at least be getting deeper sleep than he’d thought he’d be getting that night. He felt incredibly light. The sleep somehow made him forget the hardness of the stone under his bedroll.

Something stirred in his head, that there was something off about the feeling. No matter how deep his sleep was, the hardness of the ground did not disappear _this_ much. It felt as though he was in the air, weightless.

The uneasiness of it all stirred Bilbo awake enough to come to a realization. He was being carried, rather unceremoniously. He also realized that whoever was carrying him was not a person familiar to him. Over the course of the last few weeks, Bilbo had managed to get to know all the dwarves well enough.

Whoever was carrying him did not look familiar, of what he could see, but they _did_ seem to be a dwarf. Or he thought. Whoever it was, they were as stocky as the dwarves and had a beard that could belong to no one other than a dwarf. Though it was styled strangely from how Thráin and the other dwarves did their beards.

Instinct took over and Bilbo immediately began struggling upon realizing a strange dwarf had him. Where was everyone else? He could see no one, but the general darkness of where ever they were did not help.

The dwarf cursed, in their native language, and proceeded to drop Bilbo. He expected to hit the ground quickly after but that did not come. To his fright, it felt as though he was falling for quite some time before he lost awareness of everything.

 

Tagyna had a hand firmly on one of her daggers, a scowl set on her face as they were marched through the tunnels of the Misty Mountains. They’d been ambushed in the cave. It was not her cousin’s fault. He’d checked everything properly. The company had not been prepared for someone to come into their cave during the storm and force them out.

Then, they’d been corralled into the mountains, down into the tunnels.

She glared hard at the unfamiliar dwarf when he came too close. For her luck, she had King Thráin at her side. They’d been separated into pairs. The most worrying thing was that no one could find Bilbo. Nothing had happened to Belladonna or Bungo, who were a few paces ahead of them. No one had said anything yet, but they had all noticed the lack of the younger hobbit.

The dwarves residing here were not of Durin’s Folk. How they had survived this long, she did not know, but she watched her uncle’s shoulders tense whenever one of them came too close.

 _Ashkunkhazâd_ , she thought bitterly. If they came any closer to the King, she’d be there to defend him immediately.

They’d thought most of the exiled dwarves had long ago died out, or at least they would have moved farther away from Erebor. Why they’d come to reside in the Misty Mountains, and how, was beyond her knowledge. It was a bit too close to Erebor for Tagyna’s taste.

“Where are you taking us?” she snapped.

“To our lord,” replied the dwarf snidely.

“If any of us are harmed, you are declaring war on Erebor,” said Thráin, his eyes forward on Belladonna and Bungo.

The question of Bilbo was obviously itching at him but they could not be sure of it until they were before whoever this lord was.

It was not that they hated the _ashkunkhazâd_. The issues remained that these dwarves did not adhere to the culture they did and they sometimes held anger at Durin’s Folk, especially for their banishment.

She kept her hand on her dagger still, eyes roaming about the tunnels as they went. If Bilbo had not been captured, he would be entirely lost within these tunnels. They were not easy to see in, even for dwarves, thus the hobbits would be unable to see at all.

They came to a bend that descended deep down and from there into a much larger, brighter cavern. Before them appeared a throne like room, where a large dwarf sat. He did not sit in anything resembling a throne but Tagyna knew he had to be the lord.

The dwarves around them came to a stop. When Thráin moved, no one came to stop him. Thus, the dwarf king walked through the company and to the front, to stand before the strange dwarf lord. Everyone kept quiet, though Tagyna kept closer until she was just behind Bungo and Belladonna. If anything happened, she would protect them. If she could not protect Bilbo, she would protect his parents.

Bafarr gave her a sparing glance, before tensing her shoulders slightly as Thráin started talking.

“Explain why you’ve dragged us down here.”

“Well,” said the dwarf, smiling. It was not pleasant. “You were sleeping practically on our doorstep. That storm is a nasty thing, wouldn’t want you almost out in it. Tell me, what is the King of Durin’s Folk doing here in these mountains?”

The lord was very obviously mocking Thráin but the king did not react.

“We are travelling back to Erebor, as I am sure you could have assumed without dragging us down for questioning. Assuming that is all, and that we are free to leave, then I have another question for you.”

“I wouldn’t hold you against your will,” said the lord, turning his attention towards the other dwarves. “What is it?”

“As you see among our company are halflings,” said Thráin then indicated Belladonna and Bungo. Belladonna sent a hot glare at the dwarf lord. “However, we had another amongst us and it is of utmost importance that he is returned to our company.”

“I don’t know about that,” said the lord, almost chuckling. He startled like everyone else, however, when another of his people came running in.

“Dropped him! He kicked me and then fell! Farther down into the tunnels!”

Belladonna let out a wounded noise, slumping into Bungo.

Tagyna felt her stomach drop, tightening her hand on her dagger. All parts of her were screaming to attack the other dwarves but she contained it. This was all up to Thráin. If they were attack, it would be a clear declaration. In their current state, they could not afford such a thing.

_Bilbo…_

Frerin stepped forward, smiling charmingly at all the _ashkunkhazâd,_ though they were clearly disinterested in that. The dwarf prince, though, ignored it as he clasped his hands together in a friendly gesture. Tagyna dared not moved, fearing she might upset the strange tension they stood in. Besides, she was not a diplomatic person. All her thoughts were focused on Bilbo and finding him, no matter what they had to do.

She hadn’t realized her hand moved back to her dagger until Bafarr’s fingers dug warningly into her forearm.

“If he is dead, we are going to have a real problem on our hands.”

She had never seen her cousin act with contained anger, not like this. His features remained calm, collected, but his voice revealed everything. The dwarf lord himself seemed to hesitate before composing himself.

“It is out of my control what happened to your halfling,” said the lord after a moment. “As my men did not drop him on purpose, you cannot blame us for consequences of a fall in these mountains.”

Tagyna drew in a breath, then made her way to Thráin’s other side. As she moved, Bafarr dropped her hand and kept her place by the hobbits.

“My King, we should leave,” she said, then lowered her voice. “We can regroup out of here and compose a plan. We shall not leave Bilbo here, whether… no matter what has happened. We will find him but staying within these tunnels will do no good for us.”

Thráin nodded, turning his head toward her before glaring at the dwarf lord.

“You had better hope he is not dead.”

The journey out of the tunnels was a bit more difficult, as they had no guide but they would find their way out. These tunnels were inhabited by dwarves, even if they were _ashkunkhazâd_ , and they had to have a familiar layout. The feel of it, at least, would be dwarvish enough.

They would find Bilbo.

 

To wake with a horrendous headache was not ideal to Bilbo. He’d suffered enough of those from younger days and he tried to avoid them now. Goodness, why did his head hurt so? He tried to remember what had happened before he’d passed out.

There’d, there had been a strange dwarf carrying him. That was right. And when he’d struggled, the dwarf had dropped him. He’d fallen quite a way. Enough that it had caused him to pass out or it had knocked him out perhaps. It felt as though he’d hit his head hard.

He could hardly see in the dark, but there were odd lights further down wherever he was. They appeared to be gems. Bilbo hadn’t known that gems could glow like that. Slowly, he stood and rubbed at his head, frowning.

A few feet away from where he’d landed (quite large mushrooms had kept him from dying) something gold glittered at him.

The hobbit made his way toward it, his hand going to his dagger. It was still there and his hand tightened around the handle. At least he had that, even if he couldn’t use it properly. He had a good idea of what to do with it, if he needed to anyway.

When he stopped at the shining gold, it turned out to be a ring. That was quite _strange_. He picked it up, looking curiously at it. But it was just a simple gold ring. What was it doing down here?

Bilbo tucked it into his pocket, feeling strangely satisfied with having done so. He supposed the ring was his now. Who else could possibly be down here that would need it?

As if in answer to his question, a horrendous cry echoed through the caverns. It shivered down Bilbo’s back and he took in a sharp breath, curling his fingers around the ring and shaking his head as he made his way toward it. That was likely not the wisest idea in this situation but it was his only lead out of here.

Whoever, whatever, that was might know a way out. Perhaps they were not as horrible as the noise that they’d emitted. Bilbo nodded to himself, raising his dagger slightly. Here in the dark, he had the protection of his future husband. So long as he didn’t die. Well, he’d survived the fall so he had to survive this too.

Oh, but wouldn’t that be a tale?

The hobbit who had travelled halfway across the whole of Arda, only to fall down the tunnels of the Misty Mountains. Not that the fall had killed him, but a nasty creature lurking about had. He’d been so close to escaping.

Bilbo tried to erase the thought, glancing about as he crept through the cavern. It would do him well to keep an eye out not only for the creature but for a possible exit as well. If he found an exit before any such creature he would not complain.

There was a scurrying to his left and he jumped back slightly, hand slipping on the handle of his dagger. He had no idea how to use it, short of knowing he could use it to stab or to block. It would at least look like good defense to whatever was down here.

He hoped.

Though that hope withered slightly as he thought over it. There were dwarves in these mountains. Anything down here might be like a dwarf and they might able to tell Bilbo couldn’t use the dagger short of ineffective defense and stabbing.

He started at where the scurrying came from, but nothing came jumping at him. Yet, he couldn’t relax his guard. Something was staring at him, even if he couldn’t see it.

Very slowly, Bilbo took one step towards the darkness. Then, he waited again. The sensation of being watched remained. He continued on in this manner, taking cautious and small steps in the direction of his uneasiness.

Before he could take his fifth step, however, two large eyes appeared from the darkness. Where they had been before, perhaps shut, Bilbo did not know. The creature started at him then tilted their head.

“What’s it doing, precious?”

“Er,” answered Bilbo automatically then winced. The creature only continued staring in return.

“It is lost?” The creature moved, creeping into the light. They were hunched over and moved about mostly on all fours. Bilbo recoiled slightly in surprise, for the creature was entirely bald but for a few wisps of hair coming off their head. Their only clothing was a loincloth of some sort. They coughed, a strange sound, _gollum,_ echoing through the cavern. “Can we eats it?”

“No,” said Bilbo sharply, bringing his dagger up and pointing it at the creature. They fell back, glaring at the blade. “No, no e-eating. I am lost, I don’t know the way…”

“We knows the way!” cried the creature then started arguing quietly with themself.

“You can tell me,” urged Bilbo, looking around with a frown. “I won’t tell anyone else.”

The creature glanced at him, frowned and then went back to their quiet argument. Bilbo sighed in aggravation, looking around the cavern for where the creature could have come from. Unfortunately, underneath the dwarven tunnels the caverns were far too expansive. There was likely an exit but being able to find it would be quite difficult on his own.

He looked back at the creature, studying them with a slight frown. He had nothing to offer the creature in order for him to consider leading Bilbo out of here. The only things he had with him were his dagger and the ring he’d found.

He could not give either up.

“How about a... game?”

It was a trick his mother had pulled quite often on him when he was young. She’d play a game with him and if he lost, he’d had to do the chores he’d been avoiding. If he won though, he didn’t have to and he got to make his mother do something silly. But when he was young, he hadn’t been very good at her games.

The creature stared at him then their face lit up.

“A game! We likes games!”

“Wonderful,” beamed Bilbo, keeping the dagger held toward the creature. He couldn’t trust them but it felt wrong to be holding a creature at knifepoint while playing games with them. “How about riddles?”

His father was fond of riddles but Belladonna was not as good at them and that resulted in them not being a game they played often, or at all. He could make it work.

“Now, let’s see…”

 

Frerin ran a hand through his hair, the worry on his face deepening as his father paced back and forth. They’d made it back out of the mountains but they had the constant fear that the other dwarves would be upon them at any moment. No one had come after them, luckily. That did leave Bilbo somewhere inside the mountains.

He didn’t know what they were going to do, if they had to travel to Erebor to tell his brother that they’d lost the hobbit he was to marry down the mountains halfway home.

Besides the fact that Frerin was fond of Bilbo, he didn’t want him to die or be dead.

“He doesn’t even know how to defend himself,” said Frerin weakly, the realization hitting him suddenly. He hadn’t taught him nearly enough, to be on his own. Thráin looked toward him, raising an eyebrow. “I.. I gave him one of the daggers Thorin made for my last name-day. But it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t know how to use it!”

“You gave away one of the daggers? They’re a pair, they’re not to mean to be separated!” shouted Thráin, then immediately added in a calmer tone, “but he has a dagger. Even if he doesn’t know how to use it, I’m sure he’s clever enough to figure out what to do for basic defense.”

“I’m not leaving him there,” said Frerin suddenly. It was a decision he’d made rather quickly in his head. He’d find Bilbo. He would.

“ _Dashat_ ,” scolded Thráin but his son was already making his way up the hill they’d come jogging down.

Belladonna appeared at Thráin’s elbow, frowning at the retreating back of the prince.

“Should you not send someone with him?”

“He won’t go too far in on his own,” murmured Thráin, shaking his head and turning away from watching his son head back toward the mountains. “He’ll be back down here if he doesn’t find Bilbo quickly. I’m afraid all my children can be this rash. It is a trait of our line.”

The hobbit scowled slightly but she made no move to follow after the prince or send another.

Frerin knew his father would let him be. As soon as he was out of their sights, he slowed down a fraction. The anger he’d held began to dissipate. Yet, he was already up here and he needed to see if by chance he could find Bilbo. The tunnels were full of lead-offs and if he was lucky, he might chance upon wherever the hobbit fell.

As he stepped into the mountains, directly from where they’d left only an hour or so beforehand, Frerin shuddered. The entire atmosphere of these mountains was quite unpleasant and he was suddenly glad that they would be headed off soon enough.

That was, as soon as they found Bilbo.

Frerin walked slowly, touching the stone lightly. He was not as gifted as his sister as feeling out stone, but he could still feel slight things. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite sure what a hobbit would feel like by stone. This stone did not feel willing enough to show much of anything. Stone could be like that, unfortunately, and there was nothing you could do about it.

He came to a stop before a smallish crack in the wall. It was certainly large enough to squeeze through, though he’d be bending a good deal to get through. Bilbo might be able to easily fit through it. Perhaps he had come this way…?

The dwarf touched the wall, tracing his fingers over the cracks. They were quite jagged, unpleasant to a dwarf’s touch. If you were to cut a rock, it would never be so rough. But he’d heard these dwarrows had less skill in smithing among other things.

The sound of feet coming up the tunnel from the direction further in startled Frerin. He slipped a hand over the handle of his axe, in case it was a foolish dwarf. However, he let out a whoop of relief when Bilbo came into sight.

His eyes were wide and he came to a stop just before Frerin, grinning slightly.

“I thought it was you,” breathed the hobbit and then hugged the dwarf prince rather suddenly. Frerin was not used to this sort of show of affection but after a moment he returned the hug. They pulled away quickly.

Bilbo did not look embarrassed, just relieved.

“Come,” said Frerin. “Everyone else is waiting. They’ll be happy to see you not dead.”

“Did you think that?”

“Well. The _ashkunkhazd_ said he’d dropped you down the tunnels. I didn’t think, I mean, most people don’t survive falls like that.”

“Hm,” mumbled Bilbo. “I was lucky, I suppose.”

Frerin noticed then that Bilbo was holding the dagger. “Did you run into any trouble?”

“Ah,” said Bilbo, furrowing his brow for a second before it smoothed out. “I think all of this is a tale for later. I would much like to get out of here and back to the company.”

“Right you are,” chuckled Frerin.

By the time they made it back to the company, Bilbo had relaxed considerably. Not in any Hobbitish way but in the way that he was no longer in immediate danger of his life. His mother’s arms were around him as soon as he came close enough.

“I’m so glad you are alright,” whispered Belladonna before pulling away and wiping at his face. Bilbo batted her hand away with a little huff.

Before he could say anything, a howl startled them all. Thráin’s eyes widened in shock.

“We have been followed,” the king said then looked around wildly. “Quick, we must…”

The quite sudden appearance of Gandalf the Grey startled them even more. Where he had come from, they could not tell but he gave them no time to question it longer than that. The wizard gestured at them then at the trees.

“Into the trees, quickly,” ordered the wizard.

No one was reluctant to disobey that.

Bilbo scrambled up a tree followed by Bofur and Frerin. They were a tree over from Gandalf, who had helped Belladonna and Bungo up. Thráin was with them as well.

“What in Durin’s name are you doing here?”

“Ah, you see. I was less than pleased that you all left in such a hurry from Rivendell. But I knew the path you would take,” said Gandalf calmly, but he was watching for the wargs and orcs. “As I began tracking you, I saw the tail end of the orc pack following you. I’ve tried my best to find you before they did and I will want an explanation as to where you disappeared to later.”

Now, the wargs and orcs had appeared. Though Bilbo thought them all quite hideous to look at, the leader of the orc pack was perhaps the worst. He looked all around mutilated and a fierce hate crossed his face as he looked at the dwarves.

Thráin cursed angrily in Khuzdul.

“What?” cried Bilbo in bewilderment, while the wargs attacked the bottom of the trees. From beside him, Frerin tensed up.

“Bolg.”

“Bolg?” asked Bilbo, even more confused though the dwarf prince did not answer. He had his eyes fixed on the particular orc and did not seem interested in anything else.

“Spawn of Azog the Defiler,” answered Bofur, though he too looked like most of his attention was held on the orcs. “Azog was a bane to the line of Durin, until Dain Ironfoot killed him in a battle long ago. But this orc, Bolg, he wants revenge upon the line for killing his father. They hold as much hate for him as they did Azog.”

Bilbo swallowed, watching as the orc paced back and forth on his warg.

The dwarves were snarling around him, likely threatening the orcs in Khuzdul. It was a good thing that all of them were up in the trees. At least none of the company would be instantly mauled by the wargs. The issues that arose as Bilbo thought about it was that they had no way out of this situation.

They could certainly stay in these trees for a while. But how long would that be? He had a feeling that the orcs were more than willing to wait them out and they probably could. Would their escape into the trees have been for nothing?

He shivered at the thought of dying here, after narrowly escaping his death from the strange creature in the mountains. There seemed to be no way out.

Bilbo turned his head toward where his parents and Gandalf were. The Wizard thus far had helped them out of the worst situations along their journey. But what now? Could he really do anything as he was stuck up here as well?

The Wizard did not look like he was going to jump down and battle all the orcs himself.

Then, the wargs began attacking the trees rather viciously. Before they could do much about it, the trees were swaying under the fierceness of the warg’s attacks. The dwarves on the first tree were smart enough to jump to the next one as it fell. This continued on until Bilbo too had to jump his way to the last tree. Gandalf looked as though he was waiting for something, though what Bilbo was not sure of.

The warg’s were circling the base of the final tree. It was rooted at the edge of the cliff. They did not need to do too much to send the entire company toppling over and into a long fall that would surely result in their deaths. No one could come back from such a fall.

They were staring quietly, trying to determine the best way to solve the problem at hand. Gandalf let out a noise of realization and then pulled a pinecone from one of the branches. Bilbo frowned, watching the wizard curiously. Gandalf blew gently on the pinecone, until very suddenly it came alight with fire.

There was a gasp among all the dwarves before Gandalf dropped the pinecone down to Frerin, working on another. Bilbo scrambled to grab another and light it from Frerin’s before they were pelting them down at the wargs.

As it turned out, wargs did not enjoy the fiery pinecones being thrown at them. Bilbo grinned, a hobbit instinct taking over as he beaned one warg right on the nose. He caught one his mother threw from the corner of his eyes as it slammed into the head of an orc. Even Bungo had joined, his pinecone hitting a warg between the eyes and the creature let out a painful noise.

It was only a matter of time before the tree began to bend under the weight of the attacks. Bilbo knew that but he still startled when it started happening. He heard a shout of surprise from one of the dwarves but he was too focused on making sure he didn’t lose his grip to look.

The tree came down very suddenly, but to his relief, it stayed hard connected to its roots. For whatever reason, this particular tree did not want to break from the ground. They clung on, unable to attack the wargs and orcs anymore. Surely, surely they would fall or the orcs would come for them now.

As he clung, Bilbo noticed Thráin struggling up with a determined look on his face. Before anyone could do much of anything, the dwarf king was making his way across the trunk of the tree and towards the orcs.

Bolg had turned his attention directly on them, specifically on Thráin, and a grin split his face. He said something, though Bilbo could not understand him, it sounded nasty enough. A moment later, Frerin followed his father with a low cry of war on his lips.

They were attempting to fight the orcs by themselves while the other dwarves struggled to go to the aid of their king and prince.

It was not to be a long lasting fight, Bilbo knew the moment the dwarves had descended into the fray of wargs and orcs and fire. Before too long, both king and prince were struggling. It was when Frerin was thrown onto the ground hard by a warg, and Thráin could not get to him, that Bilbo made a rash decision that was the most unHobbitish thing he had ever done.

Even he did not know what he was doing until his feet were already pounding their way down the trunk of the tree. He’d pulled the dagger from its sheath. None of the wargs and orcs seemed to acknowledge his presence. After all, he could almost disappear from their sight. They were too focused on the dwarves.

Thus, the orc stalking toward Frerin with his weapon raised didn’t know what hit him, quite literally. Bilbo had lunged and tackled the orc, a strange instinct coming over him. Before he could quite explain it, the orc underneath him was dead.

He jumped up, taking a few steps back until he could guard Frerin from any further attacks. Thráin was attempting to get over to them now, his eyes wide whether in fear for his son or in shock at what Bilbo had just done. The cry of the other dwarves startled Bilbo slightly, but he only gave them a quick glance as they came storming down on the orcs and wargs.

A few of the dwarves, Dori and Ori included, could not make their way off the pine to aid their fellows. However that did not matter. Moments after Bilbo had killed the orc and taken to protecting Frerin, a cry of a bird cascaded over them.

The hobbit looked up, eyes wide as a very large eagle swooped down and snatched up a warg, only to throw it over the edge of the cliffiside. Very soon, several eagles had appeared and were doing the same. Others were picking up the dwarves, and Bilbo feared for a short moment but it seemed they were taking the dwarves to safety rather than also throwing them off the mountains.

He startled as an eagle swept down and went for Frerin. The prince had enough wits about him to grab hold of Bilbo and they were lucky enough to have time to haul themselves onto the eagle’s back rather than be carried in their claws the entire way.

Frerin let out a breathy, terrified laugh before looking at Bilbo.

“I cannot believe you did that!”

“Neither can I,” managed Bilbo weakly, his heart pounding.

Not only from the adrenaline of killing an orc and preparing to fight many more, but from being so high up in the air. As it was, hobbits were not fond of heights and less so of being flown about so high. At least the eagle did not seem to find the tightness with which Bilbo held onto their feathers bothersome.

“Wonder where they’re taking us,” said Frerin, looking around curiously. Other eagles had come into view now as they drew further from the cliffside. Very soon, they were among the other eagles and Bilbo counted all of the company before becoming satisfied. His mother and father were on the same eagle a little ahead of him, though he could see Bungo clinging desperately to his wife.

They came down onto a large stone, the eagles letting them slide off and find their feet before swooping back into the air. The eagles did not directly leave however, they hung about in the air. Bilbo was extremely thankful for the ground, more than he had ever been. He wanted to drop down to the ground and actually kiss it.

But that would be a little ridiculous so he didn’t, he just let out a tiny relieved sigh. Frerin had stepped off as well and he beamed at Bilbo then looked back up at the eagles in awe. Slowly, the other dwarves and his parents were gathering up in a group along the large rock. The last to arrive was Gandalf, who slid off the eagle and stood at the head of the group next to Thráin.

“We must make a decision here,” said the wizard. “The eagles of Manwe are willing to fly us to the borders of Mirkwood but no further.”

“Well of course we’ll take it!” cried Frerin, looking around and the other dwarves agreed quickly before Thráin could say much on the matter. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“Is there any way to alert the elves?” asked Gandalf, looking between the king and prince. “We should try to do that as soon as possible, it would be good have a guard through the forests.”

After a long moment, Thráin nodded and looked toward the eagles. “Would it be possible for you to contact a raven of Erebor and ask them to bring a message to the elves? Tell them it is from King Thráin.”

One of the eagles inclined their head and then took to the sky, flying off towards Erebor, which Bilbo realized they could see the mountain from here.

His eyes widened as he looked at the mountain from afar. It was quite large, even bigger than the mountain range of Ered Luin. They all watched as the eagle slowly began to grow smaller in the distance before Thráin turned towards the eagles.

“We must thank you for saving us from the orcs and wargs, as well as taking up to the borders of Mirkwood and for one of your own helping send a message to the elves.”

To Bilbo’s surprise, the King then bowed low to the biggest eagle. The eagle seemed to incline his head in response to the bow, but Bilbo was not quite sure as it was hard to tell.

Also he wasn’t that eager to be back upon the eagles quite yet. Some of the dwarves looked as cautious about the idea as he did, so there was at least that. He glanced around for his parents and then headed over to them. It felt like ages since he’d talked to them, even though his mother had held him close only a few hours ago.

She jumped up when Bilbo came close enough for the two other hobbits to recognize him. He realized then that he was quite grimy. They hadn’t had anywhere to bathe in the last few weeks and it send a shudder down the hobbit’s back. Belladonna, however, did not seem to care as she embraced her son quite tightly again.

“Oh, I am so glad… you’ll have to tell us what happened? How did you survive?”

She wasn’t the only one with questions as Bungo looked at his son with intense curiosity as well. He wanted to tell everything to his parents. About the fall, about the strange creature, about the ring…

No, no not the ring. He didn’t want anyone to know about it. With a shake of his head, he smiled and began retelling what happened down in the tunnels to his parents. Bungo gasped at the description of the creature, though his wife looked as though she felt bad for the creature rather than disgusted.

“What a poor thing,” murmured Belladonna, interrupting Bilbo’s story. Though he was near the end and didn’t feel like explaining how he’d escaped. “You played a game with them and won?”

“Er, yes,” said Bilbo, looking a little embarrassed. “They were quite confounded by the riddles, but also rather good, I think I only managed my way out by trickery.”

He also felt bad about that short of being grateful that he still was alive and not eaten by a strange creature.

Though, Bilbo could see that Belladonna wanted to ask how he’d gotten away. He needed time to make up a believable story but that never came. Thráin had come over to them, his face looking quite apologetic.

“I want to apologize to you, we did not expect that the road to Erebor would be this dangerous,” said the King and then bowed his head low. “We will make up for anything that may have happened once we are in Erebor. Know that.”

“How long will that be?” asked Bungo, his voice controlled.

“The eagles will be taking us to the edges of the forests of Mirkwood, the Elven Kingdom west of Erebor,” answered Thráin, turning his head toward the mountain. “From there, so long as we have an Elven guide, it should be but a few days to the other side of the forest. I think we shall rest a night in Dale and then we will be in Erebor.”

“Dale?”

“It is a city of Men on the foots of the mountain. Now, if you’re ready…” the King nodded towards the eagles, who were coming to rest on the rock. A few of the dwarves were slowly nearing them and it looked as though a few others were already on them.

Bilbo breathed out, smiled at his parents and made his way over to the eagles. He did not want to ride them alone, though he was not sure if he should ride with Frerin again. They were friends but what would it be if they were possibly going to be landing in front of Elves?

He almost jumped high in the air with a hand touched his back. Bafarr smiled at him and he relaxed his shoulders slightly.

“You’ll be with Bofur and I, come along, Master Bilbo.”

Bilbo nodded, following the dwarf guard to one of the eagles. Bofur already sat upon it and he grinned widely at Bilbo.

“What do you think, they’re amazing, right?”

The hobbit glanced at the eagle, which appeared to be watching him from one eye. Then he looked back up at Bofur and offered a nervous smile. “Er, yes..”

Before too long, the rest of the dwarves and Bilbo’s parents had boarded the eagles as well. They were in the air moments later and the hobbit clung to Bofur tightly. If the guard noticed, he didn’t say anything which Bilbo was grateful for. At least he could withhold some of his dignity then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul:  
> ashkunkhazâd/ashkunkhazd - banished dwarves (I had to mash two words together to get this, ashkun means banish, and of course the word for Dwarf)  
> dasat - son
> 
> I wasn't sure where to cut off this chapter but it ended up hitting best here before they go to Mirkwood. I'm looking forward to getting to Erebor soon! (Next chapter may come early ;) )


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally, finally make it to Erebor after a last bit of trouble on the road.

Had anyone asked Bilbo, he would have said that they were in the air for a long time before he noticed anything different about their surroundings. At one point, though, as he grew tired, he’d looked down curiously at the ground. Not too far ahead in the landscape was a large forest that seemed to stretch on forever in front of Erebor. But it was frighteningly dark in some areas.

Was this Mirkwood?

Bilbo furrowed his eyebrows as the eagles began to descend towards the ground. Hadn’t Frerin said that they were neighbors to the elves of the Greenwood? This could not be the same woods. He had heard some tale of the Greenwood during the journey, and as they came closer, he could almost feel the fel energy from the south of the woods. The dwarves had also referred to the woods as Mirkwood, and he supposed this might be why.

He shuddered at the thought of darker creatures crawling about the forest. They would hopefully not run into any of that. The elves wouldn’t let that happen, right? Bilbo wasn’t sure he could handle anything more after the orcs and the strange dwarves they’d run into. Or that creature deep in the mountain.

Slowly, they came closer and closer to the ground. As they did, Bilbo noticed that there was a small group of elves waiting for them by a small cropping of trees not directly connected to the forest. They all had red hair, some browner than others but an overall red hue permeated the group. They were also all dressed in armor, unconcealed daggers and bows strapped to their backs. Bilbo had never seen any elves like them, they looked dangerous and ready to attack at any moment.

They really did seem nothing like the elves he’d seen as a child, or like Lord Elrond and the Rivendell elves.

In a matter of a moment, the eagles had landed. Bafarr slid from the eagle first, then turned and held out her arms for Bilbo. He felt quite silly coming off the eagle like a child but the elves were not looking at him. Bafarr set him on his feet, focusing her attention on the elves. They were focused on king Thráin, who had stepped quite gracefully off the eagle he’d been riding. Before anything else, the king turned and bowed low to the eagle before standing.

“ _Ikhminrukî_ ,” he said, before turning towards the elves. Bilbo watched as the eagles took flight. They were quick to disappear from sight. As he looked at them, a raven swooped down and settled on the king’s shoulder. Bilbo hadn’t even realized the raven was in the trees. The raven cocked its head, beady eyes staring at Bilbo. He took an involuntary step backwards and almost into Bafarr.

She rested a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“I hope Lord Thranduil will receive my thanks for aiding us through your forests.” Thráin addressed the elves.

“Of course,” said one of the elves, stepping forward. “King Thráin,” they addressed him and bowed slightly. “There have been less pleasant creatures about our forests these days, as I am sure you have heard. We will take you along the safest roads as quick as we can manage.”

Thráin smiled, although Bilbo could see the strain in it, and motioned for the elf to lead the way. Bilbo had been paying too close attention to them to realize that the others were all grouped around them, forcing Bilbo and his parents into the middle of the dwarves.

Gandalf paused by Thráin and Bilbo. “I think I shall accompany you to Erebor, at least.”

“Can you not stay for the wedding, my friend? It is only two weeks away once we arrive in the mountain. Enough time to...” the king paused, smiled at Bilbo and continued on in Khuzdul.

Were they talking about him?

Bilbo frowned, then quickly made his way up toward the elf that was leading the group. They were just entering the forest now, but he could already feel the dread in his stomach. A strange feeling arose in his gut, thoughts jumping towards the ring. He brushed them off. Well, if the dwarves were going to be so rude, he’d just talk to the elves! It would at least take his mind off of the dark energy spilling towards them.

Bofur and Bafarr had not followed him, surprisingly, but he contented himself with walking beside the elf until they noticed and stared openly at him.

“Hello,” they said, uncertain.

“Hello,” replied Bilbo, smiling. “I am Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. Who are you?”

“Tauriel, of the Greenwood,” said the elf, looking quite amused. “What is a little one like you doing so far from home?”

“Well, I am to be married to Prince Thorin.”

The elf’s face changed. Her features tightened, but Bilbo found it hard to read the look in her eyes. Elves were cryptic, even these strange ones in the woods.

“I see,” she said.

“Come now, that doesn’t make me feel very good about my future husband,” joked Bilbo, though he truly did not feel too good about the way they elf had reacted.

It was much like many of the dwarves had treated the situation and it was beginning to set him on edge.  

She seemed to be thinking of something to say for a good while before deciding.

“Prince Thorin is not bad. He is just, he is rather _difficult_. My lord Thranduil does not like him, even more than he does not like King Thráin.”

“Why?”

“I am sure you have heard enough about why elves and dwarves do not like each other, to guess why.”

“Yet you are leading us through the forest with little complaint,” pointed out Bilbo. Tauriel looked at him in surprise, then smiled. She did not seem as openly antagonistic towards the dwarves as he had thought the elves might be.

“Lord Thranduil would never deny a simple request like this, lest the dwarves take it for any declaration of war. I doubt that they would, but we are reluctant to show any more denial of help. There is at least an attempt at an alliance.”

“Yes, well, that’s all a little silly to me,” said Bilbo with a shake of his head. “If it were me, I’d tell everyone to get over it and move on. It’s clear both kingdoms need help from the other.”

“You might make a better diplomat than some, if you had a little training,” said Tauriel, a soft chuckle at the end of her words. It died quickly. In the faraway trees, something moved and her hand went to one of her daggers. Beside her, the other elf leading them lifted his head up toward the trees with a frown.

“What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know,” answered Tauriel, cautiously. “Keep an eye out and send word to the other elves to keep an eye on the back of this company. We need to make it to the other side of the forest without running into too much trouble.”

“Orcs?” asked Bilbo quietly, when Tauriel had turned her attention toward him again.

She stared at him for a long moment then shook her head slowly. He realized the elf’s attention was focused between him and the trees as they moved.

“No, though we are always on alert for them as well. I would tell you, but I’d think it best you not know unless we are attacked.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” mumbled Bilbo, looking around again. It was far too dark in here, even with the leaves blocking out sun. He felt a shiver go down his back but a soft hand on his shoulder startled him more.

Tauriel stared at him. Her eyes were gentle.

“You need not worry, if anything does attack us, every single elf here will defend you. As will the dwarves, I believe.”

Bilbo stared back at her in surprise, trying to process the words from the elf. He didn’t have much of a chance, as the company continued moving. If he lingered, attempting to piece together his thoughts, he would be left behind. That was not something he wanted. Keeping to Tauriel’s side, Bilbo noticed more things about the forest as they moved through it.

Many of the trees looked menacing, darker than the ones on the edge of the forest. Bilbo had seen darker forests before around the edges of the Shire, but _this_ felt different. It felt crueler, like a malice laid in the roots of the trees. He shivered again, almost tripping over a large root. He’d been watching his feet and he _definitely_ had not noticed that.

The other elf that had been talking with Tauriel watched him, reaching out to steady him carefully. His eyes danced with curiosity as he looked Bilbo over.  

“You are a small creature,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. “Even smaller than the dwarves.”

“Yes, thank you,” sniffed Bilbo, frowning as he continued to watch the forest floor just in case any other roots snuck up on him. So far, so good.

If he had less concern for his feet, he might have taken offense at the elf’s statement. His dismissal still did the trick.  

“My apologies, I have never seen your kind before.”

Bilbo looked up after hearing that, watching the elf with less of a frown. He had not noticed the appearance of this particular elf. Unlike the other elves, he had blonde hair and though he too wore similar armor, it was noticeably different. His features were reminiscent of the elves Bilbo had seen as a child, even from a distance.

“Well,” said Bilbo. “I am Hobbit and we come from far west, from the Shire.”

The elf nodded, his eyes darting about the forest for a moment before settling back on Bilbo. “And are there elves out there? The farthest I know is of Lord Elrond, in Rivendell.”

“Hm,” hummed Bilbo and thought for a moment. He only knew of Rivendell as the farthest elf settlement, at least in relation to Mirkwood. He hardly knew anything about the world. “I believe Rivendell is right, but I have seen elves before, when they go west...”

“Ah,” the elf smiled. “I see! Have you seen many?”

“No,” Bilbo shook his head, then looked back down at his feet. “I almost always miss them... my mother, she wanted to take me to see them this upcoming year.”

“But you won’t,” said the elf. When Bilbo looked back up, there was a strange look upon the elf’s face. He schooled his features when he met Bilbo’s gaze. “You are to marry Prince Thorin, as you have said, though we’ll see if you want to after you meet him.”

“Legolas,” scolded Tauriel, though she did not look at either of them.

“You’ll see,” snorted Legolas, then paused as his eyes widened. Tauriel paused at the same moment, as all the elves did. It startled the dwarves, who nearly ran into each other. A few of the elves steadied them, hands drawing out their bows slowly.

“Don’t move,” cautioned Legolas, his voice a whisper in Bilbo’s ear. Beside him, Tauriel drew back her arm. In the matter of seconds that Bilbo had been startled by the elves stopping, she’d drawn her bow and an arrow.

Very slowly, Tauriel shifted her feet and inched forward, drawing her arm back further as she positioned the arrow higher. It was an interesting process to watch, as Bilbo had never seen anyone fire a bow, much less at the angle that the elf was.

After she’d let it go, Bilbo heard the odd sound of the arrow striking its apparent target (or so he hoped). A second after that, something large and dark fell from the tree in front of them. Before they could even react, one of the elves had moved forward and disappeared with the creature.

Tauriel’s eyes were harder when she looked back at the group.

“We need to move on,” ordered the elf captain, glancing at Legolas before marching off. The entire company felt her rush to be out of the forest.

They’d been travelling for a couple of hours when the elves suddenly stopped. Tauriel nimbly disappeared up into the trees. Bilbo looked at Legolas, supposing he might be the one next in charge then.

“How long do we have until we are out of here?”

“I would say,” started Legolas then paused, his eyes moving about the company for a long moment. “Another day at the most. We are almost back to the paths that are less likely to have anything unnatural crawling about. We did not expect to run into anything at all. It is getting worse.”

“What is?”

But Legolas did not answer. He had turned his attention back onto the trees and Bilbo noticed his ears twitch slightly as he listened for sounds.

They settled down eventually, though Bilbo wondered if Tauriel would come back at any point. She’d been gone for a while, by the time it had grown completely dark in the forest. He couldn't see a thing. His only reference that he was not alone was the occasional sound of the others shifting, as they attempted to lay comfortably on the forest floor.

Then, just as he started to drift, he thought he heard the sound of someone dropping to the ground from the trees and the soft sound of voices. But before he could distinguish much more, he’d fallen asleep.

Though it seemed like they might, they encountered no more unsavory things out in the forest. The day until they would be safely out of the forest passed much quicker than Bilbo expected. He fell back to walking with his parents and the dwarves. During the night, Tauriel had returned, but her expression stayed tight. Soon enough, they stood on the edge of the forest and Erebor rose high above them. Bilbo felt his heart quicken.

It was far more impressive than he had ever imagined, this close up.

Thorin was somewhere in that mountain.

Tauriel turned toward them, smiling softly at Bilbo before returning her attention to the dwarves.

“We will leave you here. I trust you can make your way to Dale without our help, and my lord requires us back now.”

The elves were gone within moments, disappeared back into the forest. The hobbit hoped he might see Tauriel again. Perhaps he could tell Thráin how kind she had been to him, even in the short amount of time they’d been in the forest. After all, she was friendlier than the other elves. 

Bilbo let out a breath, remembering that he would have to spend the night in Dale before they even made it to Erebor. Goodness, he was this close to meeting Thorin. Yet it felt as though it might never come.

For their luck, they didn’t have to walk too long before they were arriving in Dale. The Men of Dale seemed nice enough, if he could make any judgement based off of how they were greeted. Very soon, they were being ushered about and towards a large structure in the midst of the town.

“I’ll be happy to see king Bard,” grumbled Thráin, glaring at the men who were practically corralling them around. “He’s much better than this.”

“And you can stand him, unlike lord Thranduil,” pointed out Frerin, cheerily as they walked into the house. At least, Bilbo thought it must be a house. It was similarly structured to the buildings in Dale. “For good reason too.”

“Bard is far more practical than any other Man or Elf I’ve had to deal with,” said the king, then paused and bowed before a tall, dark-haired Man.

“I am glad you think so highly of me,” said the man, his voice extremely amused. “But don’t let anyone else hear you say that.”

“Aye, aye,” chuckled Thráin and then knocked his head hard against Bard’s. The Man appeared unconcerned with this treatment. Bilbo gaped a little. “I just had to deal with elves for the last two days, and one of them was Thranduil’s own son!”

“Oh?” Bard smiled, amused. “Last I heard, Legolas is easier to deal with than lord Thranduil. Or has that changed?”

Thráin snorted. While the other dwarves relaxed, Bilbo frowned. He’d been talking to Legolas and hadn’t even realized the elf was a prince! Oh dear. Had he acted out of turn? He didn’t know how to act around or with princes, especially since Frerin didn’t like to act anything like a traditional prince.

How was he supposed to be around Thorin?

Bilbo worried his lip, sticking closer to Bafarr as they began to separate off in the house.

Thráin and Bard were continuing to talk, laughing quietly. It was then Bilbo noticed a dwarf that had not been on the journey with them. He was talking with Ori, a relaxed but stern expression on his face. He had white hair and looked much older than the other dwarves, besides Thráin. He must have felt Bilbo staring because he caught Bilbo’s eyes then smiled.

“Ah, you must be Bilbo,” said the old dwarf, as he came near. Ori followed him, smiling nervously.

“I am,” said Bilbo, clearing his throat awkwardly. “That is me.”

“Wonderful!” The dwarf declared, then paused and smiled at Bilbo. “My apologies, introductions are needed first. Balin, son of Fundin, at your sevice. I am the King Under the Mountain’s advisor. We are overjoyed you are here.”

“Ah, well,” Bilbo fumbled, bowing his head awkwardly. “Bilbo Baggins, at yours, but you know that, I suppose.”

“I must talk with you about something,” stated Balin, his voice taking on a serious tone. “It is not in your contract, but it is a tradition that I understand hobbits do not do.”

“Oh, er,” said Bilbo, looking at Ori quickly. The young dwarf wasn’t looking at either of them. “Well, alright. What is it?”

“It is traditional for the two to be married not to meet until the wedding itself. I am sure this is quite unconventional to you, but within arranged marriages, we do not want the couple to meet and end up disliking each other before they are married.”

Balin offered him a kind smile.

Somehow, Bilbo wondered if this had to do with the fact that everyone seemed to think badly of Thorin. Like they were trying to apologize for him as many times as possible. Wouldn’t it better if Bilbo didn’t meet the prince until they were marrying? Then nothing could go wrong. It simply did not make sense, to him. It would be better if he met Thorin before they were married. They could at least form a friendship, or something, instead of being complete strangers. Besides, if they did dislike each other, it might be able to be worked out before they were married!

He wanted to accuse the lie but he could not. What if it was a true tradition? He couldn’t do that and then be humiliated by insulting their culture.

“I see. That is not a Shire tradition, but I will respect any of your traditions.”

That seemed to be the correct response, as Balin beamed and then smiled at Ori before they turned back into their conversation.

The trek up to the mountain in the early afternoon the next day was not nearly as long as Bilbo had thought it would be. They had a clear shot across the land to it, along a road from Dale and straight to the gates of Erebor.

Bilbo thought they were impressive, the large dwarf statues hard to miss.

There were guards standing there and they almost lost their composure at the sight of the company. Bilbo figured it was the reappearance of king Thráin. The dwarves had bowed very low, saying something in Khuzdul. Thráin held up a hand.

“I thank you for the kind welcome,” he said. “But we are all very tired from the journey. I will hold a feast tomorrow, but let our company rest tonight. Call my daughter to the chambers, but not Prince Thorin.”

The end of his sentence was sharp. The guards exchanged looks before bowing their heads again.

As they walked into the mountain, the dwarves of the company began disappearing, until it was only Thráin, Frerin, Tagyna, Bilbo, and his parents.

He missed the presence of Bafarr, and Bofur, though he supposed they might have their own lives and families to attend to.

“I’ll have you meet my daughter and then have someone show you to your rooms,” said Thráin, smiling as he pushed open large doors to an equally large and grand room. “These are the King’s Chambers. Bilbo, you’ll live here when Thorin is king. For now, though, you’ll be staying in the guest suites with your parents. If you do not mind.”

“Oh, no,” responded Bilbo, smiling as he looked around the rooms. They were lovely, the ceilings drawn high like the vast majority of Erebor seemed to be. As little as he had seen. “Are all your rooms so grand?”

Thráin chuckled. When Bilbo looked towards him again, the dwarf king had shrugged off the furs he’d worn through all of their journey. He looked much simpler. Bilbo had not noticed before, but there was another dwarf, bowing his head, at the entrance to the rooms. He looked similar to Bafarr, and Bilbo wondered if they might be related. He would find Bafarr later and ask her. It was a good excuse to see her.

“Batarr, could you bring us all tea? I’m sure we’ll have a nice talk with my daughter, especially since the boys should be asleep.”

The dwarf, Batarr, bowed his head and then left the room. Thráin motioned them towards a smaller room. When they entered, Bilbo realized it was like a tea room. At least dwarves had tea rooms. He knew already they did not eat the regular meals that hobbits did but at least he could have tea somewhere.

Bilbo sat down, relieved to find the chairs in here comfortable. Thráin sat at one of the heads of the tea table. Frerin had sat by his side and stifled a yawn. It seemed as though there was a sort of seating arrangement, as Tagyna did not take the seat by Thráin’s other side. Instead, she sat to the left of the empty chair. He worried a little at their positions but the dwarves did not say anything.

“I’m afraid you will not meet my wife until tomorrow. She is a very early sleeper.”

They were all quiet for a moment and Bilbo opened his mouth to say something, but to his surprise the door opened suddenly. It startled all of them but the dwarves. Beside Bilbo, Tagyna grinned.

“Hello, Cousin Dís.”

Dís broke into a wide grin when she saw Tagyna, then smiled more controlled at her brother and father.

To put it plainly, Dís looked nothing like her brother but a good deal like her father did. Her hair was dark like Thráin’s, if perhaps a shade lighter. Her hair and beard were both braided as intricately as her brother’s and father’s. She dressed in dark blues, which Bilbo had a feeling might be the color the royal dwarf family wore. Even Tagyna wore shades of blue, though they were lighter. Would he have to wear blue as well? It wasn’t his favorite, though he did have a nice pair of trousers that were blue.

Had he packed them? Bilbo hoped so.

He supposed that perhaps the blonde hair Frerin possessed from Thráin’s wife’s side of the family. He’d heard them talking and he was fairly sure that Tagyna was only a niece to Thráin through marriage. Her aunt by blood would be his wife, Bilbo thought, and Tagyna was just as blonde as Frerin.

He wondered if Thorin was as blonde as well. Or perhaps he looked like his father and sister? Though, he could not even begin to imagine what Thorin truly looked like. There was no image he could call up. The dwarf he was supposed to marry was very much a mystery to him.

And he wouldn’t know anything more until they were in the midst of a wedding.

That frightened Bilbo still. What if he truly did not like Thorin? What if the dwarf was so unattractive, that was why they were hiding him from Bilbo? They all seemed timid that he would meet Thorin and no longer wish to marry him. Bilbo had signed the contract; he could not back out now! He would not back out.

Or maybe it was him. The hobbit frowned at the table as tea was set for them. Maybe they thought Thorin would not like him and that the prince would try to call off the wedding instead. He drank his tea slowly, listening to the dwarves talk and his mother pitch in every so often. He thought if his mother could stay here in Erebor, everything might be better. If his parents would stay, things would be fine. He could deal with anything thrown at him.

He’d spaced out of the conversation so much that the clearing of Tagyna’s throat only pulled him out in time to realize that Dís had asked him a question.

Bilbo stared blankly at the dwarf princess, feeling embarrassment pool in his stomach. He’d been doing so well with making a good impression on Frerin. What if he mucked it up with Dís? Surely, that would not be good. There was a good chance that the two would be telling Thorin about Bilbo. He didn’t want his fiancée to think badly of him, before he even had a chance to meet him.

He couldn’t let them slander him!

“Pardon? Forgive me, I’m quite tired from the journey here,” replied Bilbo, relieved that he didn’t have to lie about that.

“I was…” started Dís, then shook her head before looking at Thráin. “Father, if our guests are tired, we should let them rest. We can become more acquainted in the next two weeks, before Thorin and Bilbo marry.”

“Quite right,” said Bungo, standing up suddenly. His motion disturbed Belladonna slightly, who glared at her husband softly. “You said someone would show us to your rooms? I must apologize, but we can certainly meet your daughter better when we are all rested.”

“And my sons,” added Dís as she stood up. “I would like you to meet them, if you like.”

“That would be wonderful,” agreed Belladonna before turning to look at Thráin.

After a moment, Thráin nodded and ordered Batarr, who Bilbo had not realized was there, to take them to their rooms. They were one hall over and quite spacious but for all Bilbo cared he simply fell onto one of the beds and promptly went to sleep. He did not even have the mind to take in any details of the rooms.

 

The arrival of his father and the rest of the company, along with the hobbits, had excited Thorin. He’d been more than relieved to know he wouldn’t be dictating everything by himself anymore. Even with his mother at his side and Balin, it was difficult to make decisions without worrying that he might mess something up.

Balin had gone down the night before, into Dale, to meet with Thráin and the rest. He’d come back earlier than them, to tell Thorin that he was not allowed to meet the hobbit he was betrothed to.

Bilbo Baggins. Who was somewhere in the mountain but Thorin would not be allowed to see him for two weeks. Then they’d be married. He worried about that. Why was his father making it that he would not meet his future husband until they were actually being married?

He’d spent the afternoon agonizing over it but to no avail. His sister had been allowed to go and meet the hobbits. Thorin wanted to throw a fit over it but he knew that was extremely childish of him to do. Besides, eating dinner with his mother and her alone was nicer than anything else at the moment. Fris had been delighted to share dinner with her eldest son, if any indication by the way she kept talking excitedly showed. Then, she’d kissed his forehead and went to bed with a happy smile. Well, _she_ would get to meet Bilbo tomorrow morning and Thorin would continue to spend his time _not meeting Bilbo._

When Frerin and Dís finally came through into the hall of their rooms, their elder brother jumped up from where he’d been moping by the doors to their rooms. He wouldn’t admit to it, but he had been waiting for them to come back. All the time spent by himself, knowing his siblings were meeting his betrothed, had trickled negative thoughts in. The sight of them together, though, tempered him.

“Oh, Thorin,” said Frerin, grinning widely. “ _Shamukh, sakhmi astû galikh_!”

Immediately, all of Thorin’s temper and negative feelings dissipated. He had not seen his brother in months. He embraced his younger brother tightly. They did not have many ways to communicate, besides the ravens, and there was always a chance someone might not return. He could not imagine the mountain without his brother. Frerin laughed against his chest and smacked his back happily.

“ _Naddith_ ,” Thorin said, pressing their foreheads together.

“I am happy to see you too, _nuddel_!” Then he pouted at Dís. “I did not receive such a cordial welcoming from you.”

“ _M'ikhfishif targzu ni bagd_ ,” she said, rolling her eyes at Frerin, “you know well enough that we were around strangers!”

Frerin grumbled under his breath, breaking the hug with Thorin. For a moment, the older dwarf clung to him. It almost didn’t feel real. When he fully pulled away, he scowled at the pair of them.  

“Now what’s that look for?” chuckled Dís as she carefully opened the door to her rooms. She didn’t want to wake up either of her sons, but Thorin had a good feeling neither of them were truly asleep. They were excited as the rest of the family to meet the hobbits.

“You both were able to meet the… my… you were able to meet Bilbo,” he grumbled. Frerin rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.  

“C’mon, you can stand two weeks of it! _'Adad_ doesn't want you to mess anything up by being... well, you.”

Dís sent him a sharp glance but the deed had been done. Frerin had already said the words that Thorin feared were the truth. His father did not trust him to not mess up yet another thing in his life. Instead of frowning at his brother, Thorin simply sighed and looked away from both his siblings.

“It’s not that bad,” comforted his sister. “Frerin has told me more about Bilbo, and I think you two will get along just fine. He’s almost as stubborn as you!”

The last part was said with a large grin on his sister’s part before she winked and went into her rooms. She had a husband and sons to go back to, at least.

 Frerin smiled apologetically at Thorin when the door closed all the way.

“I can tell you about him, if you’d like. No one said anything about _that_ being forbidden.”

“I don’t know,” said Thorin, turning towards his room with a frown. “That’s sort of cheating by _‘adad_ , isn’t it? I’d then know everything about Bilbo and... Bilbo wouldn’t know anything about me. That would not be fair.”

“You know how many people have kept apologizing to Bilbo for you? For having to marry you? Look, I’ve been doing my best to beat that back but I can’t do any more than that. You can make a good first impression by appealing more to him. And the only way you can do that is by knowing more about him. Alright?”

Thorin sighed.

He knew his brother was right, he just wasn’t sure he wanted to practically go against his father’s wishes. Frerin was right, there was nothing saying Thorin couldn’t learn more about Bilbo. It might even prevent him from mucking up their marriage in the future.

When he finally nodded, his brother grinned widely and ushered Thorin into his room before the elder dwarf could protest anything.

 

The following morning, Bilbo woke to the sound of a knock on the door into their rooms. Before he could even get out of his bed, he heard his mother answering the knock. Then, he heard the sound of his future sister’s voice, accompanied by three other voices he didn’t recognize.  

With his curiosity bursting, he dressed as quickly as he could and left his room. Now that he was more awake, he could take in the details of their temporary rooms. As he walked down the small hall, Bilbo noticed how cold the stone floors were. The mountain itself was a comfortable temperature, much like how hobbit smials felt. In the time Bilbo had been asleep, Belladonna had decorated the rooms. He wasn’t sure where she’d found the decorations but somehow, she had made it feel more homey. Bilbo peeked into the kitchen, deciding not to rush too much. It was their first day in the mountain, after all.

The kitchen didn’t look very hobbitish, although he thought it might do well enough. Bungo stood at the counter, staring down the teakettle intently. After a pause, Bilbo continued down the hall. There were many rooms, although most were unused bedrooms. One looked like it might be study, but it also looked as though his parents had yet to go in themselves. He also found the bathroom, far grander than anything a hobbit might like. At least a bath might be luxurious, though he wondered at how they filled such a large tub.

Eventually, Bilbo made his way to the beginning of the rooms. In their small receiving parlor, there stood Dís and three other dwarves, along with Belladonna. One of the dwarves looked a good deal like Dís, though much younger and likely one of her sons. Standing beside him, another young dwarf though he looked more like who must have been his father. The two younger dwarves were talking loudly and excitedly with Belladonna, who looked amused. Bilbo couldn’t properly judge their age, but he could guess they were likely on the younger side.

“Bilbo!” greeted Dís eagerly. “Come over here and meet my husband and our sons.”

The dwarf standing next to her smiled and surprisingly, offered his hand for a shake. Bilbo accepted it lightly. He hadn’t seen any of the dwarves greet this way. It was a more familiar greeting for hobbits.

“ _Bakn galikh,”_ the dwarf greeted, dropping his hand. He bowed his head in a fluid motion. “Víli, at your service.”

Dís glanced at the boys then frowned, crossing her arms. Víli also adopted a stern expression. They both stared at the two young dwarves until the boys scrambled into an awkward bow to Bilbo and Belladonna.

“ _Shamukh, ra galikh ai-mâ_!” They said together, before the blonde of the two straightened up and smiled directly at Bilbo.

“Fíli, son of Víli, at your service.”

His brother made an awkward face. “Kíli, son of Víli, at your service.”

Belladonna looked delighted by all of it. Bilbo could tell the young dwarves were slightly uncomfortable with the introductions, but as Dís relaxed her arms, so did the boys relax their stiff positions. As Belladonna led them all towards the dining room, which the rooms also had, Bilbo lingered back. This was to be his family, he thought, watching as the boys shoved each other playfully behind Dís’s back.

They paused, looking both back at Bilbo. He blinked. The two dwarves approached him. From here, the dining room could be seen but he could no longer make distinctions of the conversation between his mother and Dís and Víli.

“Hello,” he said. He felt awkward with the attention of the two on him.

“You’re Bilbo Boggins? You’re the one that is going to marry uncle Thorin?”

Bilbo made an incredulous noise. “It’s _Baggins_.”

The two brothers shared a look, then grinned at Bilbo. He could feel an annoyance at them already, as Kíli began talking and purposefully mispronouncing Baggins each time he used it, while Fíli stifled a laugh. Clearly, they were much younger dwarves than he’d thought.

Well, Bilbo thought as he decided to humor the two, if he could handle these two, he could handle a dwarf he did not yet know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul:   
> Ikhminrukî - thank wholeheartedly   
> Shamukh, sakhmi astû galikh! - Greetings, good to see you (again)!   
> Naddith - brother that is young   
> nuddel - brother of all brothers   
> M'ikhfishif targzu ni bagd - Do not dangle your beard in the wind (Stop talking nonsense)  
> 'Adad - father   
> Bakn galikh - Good morning   
> Shamukh, ra galikh ai-mâ! - Hail and well met!
> 
> Lots of Khuzdul in this chapter! Also, Thorin finally makes his appearance. He'll be taking up role as a major character in the next chapter, I'm very excited to finally get to this part of the fic. (Also, yes, Batarr is Bafarr's brother.) 
> 
> I may do another update sooner than next Tuesday, we'll see. School has been a bit stressful this week.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been two days since Bilbo had arrived in Erebor. In general, he quite enjoyed his life here. He spent a good deal of time in the rooms with his parents. His mother and father were completely free to roam around Erebor on their own, though they liked to have at least one guard with them. They were new to

Bilbo, on the other hand, was not allowed that luxury. He was forced to have a guard with him and could not go anywhere unless he did. Also, the areas he was allowed to go had to be predetermined so that they would not run into Prince Thorin.

It was annoying and tedious. Bilbo did not care, he would have much rather met Prince Thorin and had it done with.

Couldn’t they at least move the wedding up?

“He can’t be that bad,” said Bilbo, frowning as Dís and Frerin appeared at his door early that morning. “Honestly.”

“He’s not,” said Dís with a little chuckle. Both she and Frerin were dressed less formally than Bilbo had seen them since he’d arrived in Erebor. They looked more comfortable than some _hobbits_. “It’s just... tradition.”

“I don’t believe you,” muttered Bilbo, which earned him an eye roll from Dís and a little laugh from Frerin. “Anyway, can you take me somewhere today?”

“Like where?” Frerin had picked up an apple from the table and his words were accompanied by a full mouth. Bilbo wrinkled his nose a little. _Dwarves._

“Hm,” Bilbo thought for a moment then grinned. “The market! You must have one.”

“We do, but I don’t think you’ll enjoy it. It’s busy and sort of boring. Besides, it’s not like you need to get to know it. When you’re married to Thorin, you’ll be able to just send someone to go buy whatever you need for you!”

Bilbo frowned at Frerin.

“I like markets, thank you very much, and I will make that decision for myself.”

The two dwarves exchanged looks but after a moment, Dís smiled.

“If you really want to go, then of course we can take you!” she said, then elbowed Frerin who smiled a little. It wasn’t fake, but Bilbo still wondered why Dís felt the need to elbow her brother like that. “Do you have an idea of anything you’d like to get?”

“Oh, no, I would just like to see it, that’s all,” said Bilbo, which earned him an even stranger look. “I won’t try and get anything.”

“Well, if something catches your eyes,” said Frerin quickly. “Dís and I both can buy it for you, if you need.”

Bilbo beamed and in a few minutes, they were leaving the guest quarters. Though, he thought about it more and more and began to wonder again about these whole two weeks until he could meet his future husband, who would very well be his husband then.

“I don’t understand it,” proclaimed Bilbo as he walked between Dís and Frerin. 

“What do you not understand?” asked Dís, turning her eyes his way. Her eyebrows were lifted in question.

“He wants to see Thorin,” yawned Frerin, hand muffling his words slightly. “Hobbits don’t seem to understand arranged marriages and all the traditions behind them. Even though, we only just went over this. ”

“We don’t have arranged marriages in the Shire, I told you.”

Dís chuckled, gathering her skirts up. The royal siblings had told him that he wouldn’t have to ever cook for himself again, which had left Bilbo indignant. After all, he was a Hobbit and his father had taught him more about cooking than anything else (his mother happened to be a disaster in the kitchen, but at least Bilbo’s green thumb had come from her).

Erebor turned out to be grand and beautiful, different from Ered Luin though there were many similarities Bilbo had picked up on. He had only seen the front gate, the throne room and many halls, besides the rooms he’d been staying in. Now, though, the prince and princess had realized it was not likely he wanted to be cooped up in those rooms for the next two weeks. That was partly how he’d convinced them to take him to the market.

Bilbo found himself grateful that Dwarrows were not as thick-skulled as many made them out to be.

“Arranged marriages aren’t common among our kind, either,” admitted Frerin. “Though they happen at times, usually only for those like Thorin. And, it’s good for securing alliances.”

“It’d just be nice to know him before we marry,” murmured Bilbo as they came onto a high step over the market. Two sets of steps ran down to the market floor from either side. Like many pathways in Erebor, no rail kept them securely from falling. It made Bilbo nervous.

“Well,” interrupted Dís, her hand resting on Bilbo’s shoulder and directing him toward the left stairs. “As you’ve requested, the market! I can’t see why you want to be here. It loses its novelty quickly.”

“You say that because you don’t like taking your sons here,” teased Frerin as he followed them down.

On the floor of the market, there were several stalls of everything he could ever imagine. It was nothing like the Shire markets. He could hardly wrap his mind around everything.

Dís kept her hand tight on his shoulder, smiling forcefully at passing dwarrows. The dwarrows quickly cleared away from the three of them. Bilbo had a feeling it had to do with him specifically. After all, it didn’t seem like anyone would be too intimidated by the princess or prince.

“Once you’re married, you’ll have a ring and you can simply show it to pay for purchases. Don’t give me that look,” said Dís sharply as she showed Bilbo the ring on her finger. Frerin had one as well, Bilbo had noticed it before. They both had what seemed be fragments of a similar stone. He had never seen anything like it before. “Gold will be taken from the treasury. It’s much easier than toting it about. Then, the merchants can send it with a guard.”

“Don’t spend recklessly,” chuckled Frerin. He’d somehow managed disappearing and reappearing without them noticing, if the food in his hand was any indication.

His sister rolled her eyes, then dropped her hand from Bilbo’s shoulder.

“I think we can trust Bilbo here on his own for a while. We’ll be around. Don’t wander too far. There are guards around here as well, you can hail one down if anyone causes you trouble.”

He watched them go, separating in different directions. From what Bilbo could see, the market had sections and small gaps between each section to indicate a change. It’s quite orderly, though he wasn’t sure which section is which or where he is.

 

As it turns out, standing in the midst of the market is not a good idea. The dwarrows in the market go about their day, though a few avoid him, most bump into him and then grumble at him with words he cannot understand.

It happened that one burly dwarf bustled by and, while clearly an accident, knocked Bilbo almost off his feet. He barely caught himself, but didn't fall thanks to a large hand landing on his shoulder and a broad chest against his back.

“Oh, goodness,” yelped Bilbo and jumped away, turning around to look at the dwarf who’d kept him from falling on his bum.

His eyes widened.

The dwarf standing in front of him, the only member of the crowd not moving, was certainly unlike most of the dwarrows Bilbo had met. He was not burly at all, though not thin, the Hobbit thought he must be more muscle than anything else. 

His eyes were the most brilliant shade of blue, sparkling with amusement and if Bilbo lost his breath for a moment, well, no one would know. This dwarf had dark hair, the tiniest bit of silver peeking through. It was not braided as intricate as many dwarves did theirs, neither was his beard grand.

“I apologize,” managed Bilbo, when his breath returned.

“I hardly think it was your fault,” answered the dwarf. “You _are_ a bit smaller than a typical dwarf. The dwarrows at the market do not watch for beings smaller than themselves.”

Bilbo screwed his lips up slightly. He disliked being referred to as _small_.

The dwarf held up a gloved hand, his eyes holding amusement still.

“You must be the Prince’s betrothed?” At Bilbo’s nod, the dwarf’s shoulders lost some of their tension. “Ah. Princess Dís sent me to accompany you.”

“Oh?”

Hadn’t she said she’d trust him on his own? Maybe he wasn’t supposed to have noticed the guard. Well, Bilbo assumed the dwarf a guard. The guard looked back at him. He had a gentle expression, but an edge of worry creeping in. The hobbit didn’t really like that, and besides, he supposed Dis had not told him. She had said there were guards around, maybe this was what she had meant. It wasn’t like he was allowed out on his own, anyway.

“You’re a guard, then?” He studied the uniform. Dwarf guards didn’t actually appear to wear a specific uniform.

“Aye,” confirmed the dwarf as he came to stand beside Bilbo. A few dwarrows were pausing but they quickly went on their way, when the guard looked towards them. “I am a member of the Royal Guard. Korrin, at your service.”

Korrin bowed his head. Of all the bows he’d been subjected to, Bilbo much preferred the head-only one. He didn’t know quite how it worked, though there were probably rules about which was to be used. It was too much, regardless, but he felt less awkward. Korrin looked at him as he straightened up.

“Oh,” said Bilbo, then cursed himself silently. That was not eloquent at all. “I am Bilbo Baggins, though I suppose you must already know that.”

“I have heard you name,” answered Korrin, then frowned. “I do not think the market is the best place for you.”

“You know,” said Bilbo, in relief. “I quite agree with you.”

An expression he couldn’t quite pin crossed over Korrin’s face before the dwarf guard beckoned him back towards the stairs. Once they were up and away from the crowd, Bilbo felt better. It wasn’t as loud, but the racket from the market could be heard even from above. Korrin simply looked at him as they stood there.

“I..” started Bilbo, for he couldn’t handle the silence. “I asked Princess Dís and Prince Frerin to take me here, it’s not exactly what I thought it would be.”

“I imagine it must be quite different from the Shire.”

“It really is.”

Korrin smiled at him then looked back down at the market. Bilbo fidgeted, tucking his fingers into his pockets and feeling the light weight of their contents. He brushed his fingers against his handkerchief and then noticed Korrin was looking at him again.

“Well, I suppose I...” His thoughts were on Dis and Frerin, who would notice his absence from the market floor sooner or later. He didn’t desire to go back down, but it felt silly standing up at the stair landing.

Bilbo hadn’t realized he’d trailed off until he saw Korrin staring expectantly at him. He opened his mouth again, then shut it, and shook his head. Korrin at least had the wits to break the awkwardness.

“Do you like books?”

Bilbo blinked, trying to process the question as quickly as he could. It seemed to have come from nowhere, for Korrin looked confused at his own inquiring. Then, his face smoothed over and he looked expectantly at Bilbo again.

Well, he thought, well, Korrin was a little too attractive.

“I do enjoy books, yes.”

Korrin immediately started walking, almost leaving Bilbo if he had not paused to look back at the hobbit.

“I will take you to the library. Have you been there yet?”

“Oh, no,” said Bilbo quickly then hurried after Korrin until he walked at the guard’s side. No one seemed to be in the halls. “No, yesterday was quite busy. I didn’t think to ask after the library. Oh, I didn’t even think about the fact that Erebor would have a library!”

Korrin chuckled. “You think we do not read?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Bilbo asserted, though he privately wondered where the notion came from. Why wouldn’t the dwarrows have a library? “You should have seen the marriage contract.”

Korrin made a strange noise, but his strides were a little too long for Bilbo. He had to keep up and couldn’t wonder at the response. The halls seemed void of other dwarrows. Korrin hardly seemed concerned.  

“Where is everyone?”

“There is, I believe there is a negotiation taking place. As it is with your people, many dwarrows are attending it in interest. King Thráin has allowed it. Though how much they truly negotiate…”

“I imagine not much,” murmured Bilbo. Korrin looked at him, raising his eyebrows shockingly like Dís had. “I mean, hobbits, we tend to have a hard time negotiating. Not what we’re bad it! Look at it this way, my grandfather only held a small meeting with the dwarves from Ered Luin and his children to discuss this arrangement, when it was originally made.”

“This was a long meeting?”

“No, it was not very long at all, so my mother told me. But the Old Took simply said, ‘Whatever you’d like. We’ll agree.’ I think he believed we owed your people a great debt.”

Korrin stayed silent as they rounded a corner. At the end of the hall, the entrance to a grand library stood proudly.

“The library,” said Korrin, effectively ignoring the rest of the conversation. “Though I have realized now you will not be able to read any books from our shelves.”

“Ah,” exclaimed Bilbo, stopping before he entered. “Lord Balin is teaching me the base of your language.”

The dwarf looked amused by some part of what he’d said. Bilbo raised his eyebrows but after a moment, Korrin shook his head.

“Let me find a book you might like; I could read it to you.”

“Oh, I don’t..” he’d trailed off, as they’d walked inside the library. He was taken aback by the sheer quantity of books. There at one of the tables sat Ori. Bilbo had not seen him since they’d made it to Erebor’s gates. He felt a swell of delight in his chest. “Oh!”

Korrin looked at Bilbo curiously. When Bilbo pointed at Ori, smiling, the dwarf guard turned his attention towards the young dwarf.

“Ori. He was part of the caravan that came to get me. Ori!”

The young dwarf looked up from what he seemed to be furiously scribbling then dropped his quill in surprise.

“Bilbo!” As he shouted, Ori stood up and then quickly made his way over toward the Hobbit. “Oh, I was wondering when you would find this library.”

“Yes,” beamed Bilbo and turned to Korrin, who was not there. “Oh.”

“What is it?” asked Ori, then peered over Bilbo’s shoulder. There was no sign of the dwarf guard.

“I had a guard with me. He seems to have run off.”

Bilbo frowned then noticed Ori looked worried. The dwarf had brought a hand to his chin, touching his beard and chewing on his lip.

“What is it? Princess Dís sent him to help me around today. Even though she said I could handle the market myself. It was silly of her, I think, but he’s not a bad type at all”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” assured Ori. “It’s just that, well, her Highness should have sent Dwalin. It wasn’t Dwalin?”

“No,” muttered Bilbo. “It wasn’t Dwalin. I don’t think I’ve met him. And it wasn’t Bofur or Bafarr either. That’s who I would have expected.”

After a long moment of silence, Ori shrugged his shoulders. “Well. There is that negotiation with the hobbits going on at the moment. Prince Thorin has to be there and Dwalin is his personal guard. I suppose she would have had to assign a different guard.”

Around the corner of the one of the shelves, Thorin breathed out quietly as Bilbo followed Ori back to his table. Then he cursed himself. What was he doing?

But after a moment, he consoled himself. Even if he was not supposed to be meeting with Bilbo, Bilbo did not know what Thorin looked like. His siblings looked nothing like him. Nothing bad had happened.

It had been too tempting. He’d been trying to take a shortcut through the market, while running late for the meeting. Despite what he had said, Bilbo was hard to miss in a crowd of dwarrows. Hobbits were definitely shorter, but they lacked the beards even pebbles had, and they dressed differently. He could probably pick a hobbit out easily. A part of him had known, he thought, just by the sight of Bilbo.

Thorin could have easily continued on his way, and Bilbo wouldn’t have noticed him amongst all the others. But, then, the hobbit had been pushed aside by another dwarf. He might have fallen and been hurt. That was the best explanation for his actions.

He’d potentially ruined this entire arrangement. Even if he did not tell Bilbo outright, when they were married in two weeks’ time… Bilbo would know then.

Thorin groaned quietly into his hands.

He could make sure they didn’t run into each other again. That was probably the best scenario. The other part of him thought it had seemed as though Bilbo had enjoyed the little time they’d spent together. If he formed a friendship with Bilbo before they wedded, things might go okay. Would Bilbo understand?

 

Somehow, he found himself within the guest quarters. There were no guards in this hall, surprisingly. That did not sit well with him. All the hobbits, Bilbo included, were staying here. At the end of the two weeks, all but Bilbo would leave for the Shire. Bilbo would move to Thorin’s rooms.

He tried not to think about the consequences set in stone already.

A hobbit he didn’t know had stepped out of the room and he paused at the sight of Thorin. The night before, Thorin had been scolded for not attending the negotiations. He was to attend the rest, although according to Bilbo, there wouldn’t be more if the hobbits negotiated like he had suggested.  He had only a smidgen of regret over it. At the least, he had spent some time with Bilbo. There only remained the fact that he had not had a chance to formally meet Bilbo’s parents.

“Hello,” managed Thorin. The hobbit gave him an odd look. “Where is Bilbo Baggins’ room?”

The hobbit looked quite startled but his face quickly changed into something Thorin couldn’t fully describe. He looked defensive, at least that was the best word he could pin on it.

“Why should I tell you?” 

Before Thorin could answer, another hobbit came out behind him. She looked nothing like the first hobbit, although he noted now that the hobbit looked considerably like Bilbo. Which would only make sense, as they were the only other hobbits in the mountain kingdom. Belladonna and Bungo Baggins, then. Frerin and Dis had both talked about them, although Frerin had quite a bit more to say than Dis did. He took them in for a moment. Belladonna watched him expectantly while her husband continued on frowning at him.

“Apologies,” Thorin said. “My name is Korrin. I met Bilbo yesterday, I thought I might show him around Erebor more. Ah, I am a guard, not to worry.”

“Well,” Bungo said slowly. “He’s not here right now.”

“I can see,” replied Thorin. “I shall be on my way. I did not mean to impose upon you.”

“Oh,” Belladonna butted in, stepping in front of her husband. “Actually, why don’t you show us around? You know, we just do not like walking around here all on our own. I wanted to go to the market today but it’s a busy place. Or so Bilbo has said.”

Thorin tilted his head in agreement. He could probably manage a short time with the hobbits. Besides, it wouldn’t be bad to spend time with his future in-laws. It would only further complicate everything when the wedding came, but he wouldn’t find an easy way out of the current situation. After all, he’d showed up to show Bilbo around. That meant his time was free and there was no feasible reason for a guard of Erebor to deny the request.

Bungo scowled, although it was held back.

“No,” he said after a moment, turning back to Belladonna, “I’m going to stay in for the day. I’ve had too much of this right now.”

Belladonna murmured something softly to him, something Thorin couldn’t hear well enough to decipher. Bungo sighed but happily accepted the kiss that his wife placed on his cheek. The hobbit disappeared back into his rooms. Belladonna clasped her hands together, smiling at Thorin.

“Let’s go?”

“Aye.” Thorin nodded, turning back the way he came.

He started when Belladonna grabbed his arm. She smiled sweetly when he glanced down at her. “Well, go on, Mister Korrin. I’m sure you know the best places to go in the market. You did show my son around.”

Thorin cleared his throat and nodded, walking them to the market. Luckily, it wasn’t very far from the Bagginses room. As they walked, he prayed that he would not run into any of the dwarves that might say something to him. Especially his siblings. He’d be chewed out by either of them if they found out his lie.

This was probably a very, very big mistake. It was far too late to back out now, though. Thorin stopped them outside the market’s entrance. At this time of day, it would be fairly busy. With what had happened with Bilbo, he wasn’t sure it was the best idea to go in. Although Belladonna didn’t seem like the kind to change her mind easily.

“This is the entrance, Miss Baggins. It is busy at this time of day. Based on what happened with your son yesterday, I am not sure it is the best idea for us to enter now.”

“Oh?” Belladonna sighed a little. “Is there any way for us to see the market still?”

Thorin paused, then smiled and nodded. “Come with me.” This time he held out his arm, letting her take it before heading up a hidden set of stairs. Belladonna made an impressed noise.

“I did not notice these…”

“Erebor has many hidden doors, passages, and stairs. We work with the mountain, so that we might travel through her easier. However, unless you know they are, even a dwarf with the keenest eyes would not be able to find these. As a guard, I have to know where all of these are. The royal family also does.”

He paused at the top of the stairs, looking back at Belladonna. She smiled at him.

“You’re much better than the other guards.”

“What do you mean?” Thorin frowned as he led her out on the balcony. It circled the market, so that they could look down into it from every angle. There were a couple of dwarves milling about but they didn’t take notice of either Thorin or Belladonna. That was good. Even if they did, it was unlikely that they would approach him. He didn’t mean to come off as standoffish, yet it happened.

“I only mean that you’re holding conversation with me,” she said, peering down into the market. “The other guards we’ve been accompanied by don’t seem much for conversation. Or perhaps they don’t understand Westron. I don’t really know.”

“We all know Westron here,” he said, keeping a careful eye on Belladonna.

Like all the bridges in Erebor, there were no handrails. Dwarves had excellent sense for the stone under their feet. They would never accidentally fall. The hobbit, on the other hand, shied away from the edges. Any non-dwarf visitor did, in fact. Although the elves would try to play it off as though they did not care.

“Not much for conversation then.”

“The guards are focused on guarding you. I would not take it too personally.”

“And you?” Belladonna smiled mischievously.

“I do not do this kind of guarding, usually.” Thorin cleared his throat awkwardly. “But I do not mind.”

Belladonna hummed and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re very kind to take me to the market. I’ve already been before. It’s a bit too much, even for me.”

“Ah. Is there anywhere else you might like to see? I have all afternoon.”

Belladonna smiled sweetly at him. “Oh, no. I think this is good enough. I’d like to go back to my room. Besides, I told Bungo I wouldn’t be gone very long. I can’t leave him on his own or he gets all…” she waved her hand about in a strange gesture. “He’s not the adventurous type of hobbit. He can only handle so much before it gets to be too much for him.”

Thorin nodded, guiding her back down the stairs. The way back to the hall where the hobbits were staying was becoming familiar enough. Belladonna also seemed to know when to turn and down which halls. Soon enough they were back in the hall. Thorin paused and bowed his head to Belladonna. She smiled widely.

“Thank you. This was good. And…” she paused, her eyes twinkling. “I think Bilbo is back, Thorin.”

Thorin opened his mouth and then shut it, his eyes widening. Before he could say anything, thought, she disappeared back into the room. He could hear voices behind the door. The shock of Belladonna calling him by his name had Thorin frozen on the spot. How had she known? Why had she not said anything until now?

He still hadn’t moved when the door opened. Bilbo stared at him in surprise. Thorin could hear Belladonna in the background, just beyond Bilbo. The younger hobbit made a face and stepped out, shutting the door loudly behind himself.

“I’m very sorry about that, Korrin. Ah, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make up for yesterday. I’m afraid I had to be called away at an inconvenient time. But I assure you that will not happen today. I have already thought of a book you might like.” Thorin straightened up in relief.

Belladonna hadn’t said anything.

Bilbo brightened up, following Thorin towards the library. It was a much shorter walk than from or to the market. It gave them less time to run into anyone.

“I did not realize it was so close!” He looked more delighted as they entered the library. Then he paused. “Oh. Where is Ori?”

“Do you suppose he lives here, Master Baggins?” Thorin tried to hide his amusement.

“Oh, I suppose not… Well. Come, let’s see what stories _you_ think I might like.”

Thorin chuckled softly, following Bilbo with a fluttering in his chest. He was already quite sure that he would enjoy being married to Bilbo. The hobbit was not dull at all. He might enjoy the same things that Thorin did. They could be amicable. If Bilbo did not hate him for lying. He tried to push that to the back of his head. It would have to dealt with eventually, but for now, he could spend this time with Bilbo.

Bilbo turned toward him, beaming and Thorin smiled back at him before reaching for a book he’d hidden. It was a book he deeply wished to show Bilbo and he’d been afraid that someone might take it if he didn’t hide it. Besides, he hadn’t known when he’d get to see Bilbo again with no one around. But Ori had to record something for his father, and Thorin had taken the chance. Not too many other dwarves were in the library as much as Ori was.

The young dwarf hadn’t really paid attention to him that morning when he’d hidden the book. Thorin could only hope that Ori wouldn’t question him. Or that Bilbo had mentioned _Korrin_ to anyone. There were very few royal guards and none of them were named Korrin.

If he was lucky, he would not have to deal with his mistake until Bilbo was walking down the aisle. Then, he could probably control the damage fairly well. He hoped at least.

The hobbit had sat down and was looking expectantly at Thorin. “Well?”

“Move over,” said Thorin, waiting for Bilbo to scooch over so that he could sit down next to him. Their thighs touched. Thorin looked pointedly at the book. “This is a collection of night time tales.”

“Oh?” Bilbo peered over Thorin’s shoulder and the dwarf swallowed nervously. “I can’t read any of this!”

“I was going to read it to you,” said Thorin quickly, leafing through the pages. He’d have to find one he really liked. A desire to show Bilbo the things he liked had blossomed. He paused at one, smiling. “This is a good one, I used to read it to my brother and sister…”

It was too late to catch himself and he tensed up. Bilbo hardly noticed. He was looking curiously at the picture next to the text. Dwarrows had very few pictures, even in children’s tales but this particular tale had a picture of Mahal.

“I didn’t know you had siblings,” said Bilbo instead, though he kept his eyes locked on the picture of Mahal curiously.

“Aye, they are both younger than me,” answered Thorin, training his eyes on a strand of Bilbo’s hair that stuck up at an odd angle. He wanted to fix it. His hands tightened on the book. “It is their favorite.”

“What’s it about?”

“You want me to tell you? I was going to read it to you, in Westron,” Thorin thought telling Bilbo what the story was about would spoil it completely.

“I’d like context, thank you. It will make more sense for me. I don’t know anything about your… well, dwarves in general, I suppose.”

He looked at Bilbo’s face, who was smiling genuinely at him. Thorin’s heart did a funny little somersault in his chest.

“It’s, it is about Mahal, our creator,” he said, then pointed at the picture. He could feel Bilbo’s eyes move from him to the picture. “There are many tales about how he created us, but we tell those so often, they’re not all that interesting. This one is about Mahal and his wife, Yavanna. They say she is the creator of all that grows in this world.”

“Really?” Bilbo smiled, peering at the picture. Beside Mahal in the picture, there stood Yavanna. The two were smiling. “Well, I like her then.”

“Listen,” chuckled Thorin and started reading the tale. It was something he did so often for his siblings that he slipped with ease into storytelling mode. When Frerin and Dis had been much younger, he would do voices for Mahal and Yavanna. They’d eventually grown out of the phase of their brother reading night tales to them. Sometimes he would read it to his nephews, but even they were beginning to grow out of it.

He didn’t notice Bilbo watching him during the reading.

When he finished, Thorin turned his head slightly to look at Bilbo. It startled him when he realized the hobbit was looking at him with a faint smile. He was far too close, at least for comfort. Thorin shifted slightly, attempting to put distance between them without Bilbo noticing.

“That was a lovely tale,” beamed Bilbo, stretching his back slightly. Thorin looked away. “Read more, would you? I want to know more.”

“These are all love stories,” confessed Thorin. For dwarflings, of course, but still. He wasn’t sure he wanted to continue reading love stories to Bilbo. The hobbit only chuckled a little.

“And this is your favorite tale? Korrin, are you a romantic?”

Thorin blanked for a moment. He felt panic welling up quickly. Bilbo seemed to notice right away the discomfort, for his face fell into a more serious look.

“I was kidding, I’m sorry. That’s not something for me to ask, goodness,” said Bilbo, looking a little embarrassed then. “Now, let’s… perhaps you have more ideas of what I might like from this library? I can tell you what I personally enjoy reading.”

They spent the afternoon there, after Thorin had gathered several books that aligned when Bilbo’s other bookish interests. The dwarf prince also found himself attempting to teach Bilbo simple phrases and words in Khuzdul.

It seemed his lessons with Balin were slow going.

“I’m not sure I can actually get a grip on the language, to be quite honest.” The hobbit sounded disappointed, picking at a loose thread on this tunic. The dwarven style of clothing was very becoming on him and Thorin could only imagine how he might look dressed in the colors of Durin.

Lovely. He would look lovely.  

“It is difficult,” he agreed. “Not many could, if they were allowed to try. It is not like any other language in this world.”

“Oh, that is certainly true! I know a good deal of Sindarin and-”

“You do?”

Bilbo frowned, finding the interruption apparently rude. His lips screwed up in a frown but then he smiled at Thorin.

“Yes, I do. My mother taught me some of it. She used to travel, before she married my father. She liked the elves quite a lot.”

“I see.”

“Korrin, are you jealous?” Bilbo sounded like he was about to laugh and when Thorin looked at him again, he looked like it too. Thorin huffed, which caused Bilbo to burst into a fit of laughter. “Goodness me, well, it’s not my fault that your language is so difficult and I only have lessons with Lord Balin every so often!”

“Perhaps I should help teach you.”

It was a bold offer, simply because it meant a good deal of time spent with Bilbo. More than he should, certainly, especially since he shouldn’t even have been interacting with him in the first place.

But then, the hobbit smiled at Thorin.

“Oh, I would very much appreciate that. Lord Balin might be encouraged to teach me more sooner, if I have your help.” Bilbo beamed.

“Alright,” Thorin said, looking around. They were still alone. It seemed Ori might be out for the rest of the night. “It is getting late. Should you not return back to your parents? I am sure they are worried.”

“Oh!” Bilbo blinked. “I didn’t know,” he confessed. “You are right. We should both get back to our families.”

Thorin gathered the books up, returning them back to their places. They could always start in on more lesson another day. He couldn’t deny that it would be nice to spend more time with Bilbo. It all felt very intimate. Bilbo waited until he returned to the front of the library.

“Do you have anyone other than your siblings to return to?” Bilbo asked curiously.

“Oh,” Thorin chewed on his lip as he thought, “no. It is just me.”

No use in lying more, he thought.

At that, Bilbo seemed happier. Thorin couldn’t figure it out. But something made him feel bad. He was growing closer to Bilbo, maybe too close. What if Bilbo did not like Thorin? What if he ended up liking Korrin? Could he be the same person? He was, of course, but he wasn’t sure Bilbo would see it the same. Thorin left him just at the hall entrance. He couldn’t walk him all the way back to his room.

Thorin didn’t want to distance them but he knew that if he continued, things might turn out worse than they were already going to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm falling a bit off schedule, but like I said, uni is killing me at the moment. I'm not 100% sure when the next chapter will be out. I'm going to be spending the weekend with my partner, who I don't see very often. But I really hope everyone enjoyed this chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the big one! Wedding and all.

The days until the wedding were passing by quickly. Bilbo had hardly noticed, between studying Khuzdul with Balin and practicing the language with Korrin. They did other things besides that, though, otherwise it would have been terrible. He wouldn’t want his new friendship to be tainted by only practicing a language with Korrin.

The other day, he had invited the dwarf back to his rooms. Korrin had refused at first but after prodding from Bilbo, had agreed. Bilbo still wasn’t quite sure why but he’d been able to finally cook for the dwarf. Part of him almost wished that he didn’t have to marry the Prince, maybe just a dwarf that lived in Erebor. He wasn’t falling in _love_ with Korrin. They hadn’t known each other more than a week, but he was certainly developing feelings that would become a problem if they continued.

Yet, he did not want to stop seeing the guard. He couldn’t bear that. Korrin had become a fast friend. Even though Bilbo spent good time with Frerin and Bofur and others, he had grown closer to Korrin than anyone else. Enough that the dwarf was the only Bilbo said anything to in regards to his future marriage.

Korrin usually had good words in reply, though sometimes he would frown. Bilbo wasn’t completely sure how the dwarf felt about his prince being talked that way. He never protested or told Bilbo to stop talking. He mostly listened and that was it. Bilbo liked that about him.

In any case, his feelings for Korrin were a bit silly. The dwarf didn’t seem all that interested in much besides books and what Bilbo assumed had to be normal dwarf interests. Besides, his marriage was three days away. He swallowed and stepped away from standing near Korrin. They’d been walking around the more deserted parts of Erebor. Somehow, the dwarf had understood Bilbo’s displeasure about large crowds. He hadn’t said anything, but Korrin had started taking him to places that were less crowded. Sometimes there were no other dwarves around at all.

Well, he thought it was that but he could be wrong. Perhaps the dwarf didn’t like big crowds himself. He hadn’t looked too comfortable that day in the market. Or it was possible that the guard didn’t want to be seen spending so much time with Bilbo. It might be suspicious. Before Korrin, Bilbo had rarely had the same guard multiple times. He liked Korrin, but maybe he wasn’t supposed to be close to the guards.

He didn’t like that thought though so he pushed it aside and focused on what Korrin was saying. He’d spaced out from the conversation completely and hadn’t even realized it. 

“What do you think?”

“Hm?” Bilbo did his best to not look like he’d spent the last few minutes not listening. He could say he was quite tired and had zoned out for a moment. That didn’t seem as rude.

Korrin rolled his eyes. The hobbit very much liked his eyes. If he could be in company of them at all times, he wouldn’t mind. Mentally, he slapped himself and focused hard on what Korrin was saying this time. No fantasizing.

“There is something I would like to show you tomorrow, if you would like. It is a bit of a walk to get there and we cannot be caught but I think you will like it more than anything in Erebor. Would you like to do that?”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. Where were they going to go that meant they could not be caught?

“More than the library? I’m not so sure about that. I think it’s the best place in Erebor, besides the kitchens…” as he talked, Bilbo grinned. For Korrin was trying to hold back his smile.The dwarf had quite the lovely smile. It was far too captivating and that made it unfair.

“I promise; it will be much better than either of those.”

“That’s a great promise to make, you know.”

“I am aware,” said Korrin and Bilbo glanced at him. He had a much more serious look on his face than was necessary for the way they were talking. The tone of his voice had changed as well. Bilbo furrowed his eyebrows for a moment but then smiled at Korrin.

“Okay. I only say that because I’m more interested to see what you think will interest me more than the library or kitchens.”

For once, Korrin only smiled in response.

The next day, when Bilbo found Thorin, after escaping the watchful eye of Balin, the dwarf took him to the market. Bilbo did not seem overly pleased with this development and readily voiced his displeasure as they walked through it.

“I hope this is not where you planned to show me, because you should remember that I have been here already.”

“This is not it,” said Thorin, smiling at Bilbo, who frowned up at him. “But... we may be spending a long time at this place, would you want to buy something to snack on?”

The hobbit made a face. “I shall, I suppose.”

Thorin watched him walk over into the section of the market dedicated to food. He only had two days left and he was not sure how he would handle seeing Bilbo’s face when the wedding came. He had befriended the hobbit well enough that he knew the reaction would not be good. He was almost positive, in fact, that Bilbo would hate him. Perhaps not that, but he would not like Thorin anymore.

Or rather… he didn’t like Thorin. He liked Korrin.

Deciding not to dwell on it today, not when he wanted to surprise Bilbo, Thorin made his way back over towards the hobbit. At least, it would be a good day for both of them. He came up quietly behind the hobbit but nothing was quiet enough to hobbits. Bilbo had said he practically stomped around.

“What is it?”

“Ready to go?”

The hobbit glanced at him as they moved away from one of the bread vendors. Not one of the vendors had said a thing about who he was. It was luck that they didn’t.

“A surprise.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, but he was smiling now. “Oh, we’re going now?” The hobbit held a sweetbread in his hand. Thorin noticed he’d bought two. His heart did a flip.

Every day he grew more anxious. Soon enough, Bilbo would stop treating him as a regular person. Surely, his status as prince and his deception both would cause Bilbo to treat him different. It was all going to be his fault.

Dwelling on it wouldn’t help now, Thorin reminded himself and led Bilbo out of the marketplace. They would have to go far up into the mountain. While Bilbo seemed skittish about it, he only was for the first few levels up. After they ascended into the higher levels, he seemed less anxious. Thorin hoped it was because of his familiarity with the quarters due to Dis and Frerin, as well as the guest quarters.

Thorin paused, looking around carefully. As far as he knew, there was to be no one up in the guest rooms at this time of day. Bilbo frowned at him as Thorin found the door to the passages between the royal rooms. In fact, the hobbit did not budge when Thorin took the first step into the passage.

“I’m not going in there!”

“You must.” Thorin insisted, holding out his hand for Bilbo.

“I can’t see anything,” he hissed, small hand closing around Thorin’s.

“I can,” Thorin said calmly, walking them down the passage.

There were several doors along the narrow passage. Each one would lead into a separate passage, which would in turn lead into one of the rooms in each of the royal suites. He paused before the second to last door.

“I need my hand,” Thorin whispered, but Bilbo only held it tighter. With a sigh, the dwarf shifted his weight and used his shoulder to open the heavy door. It opened on his mother’s old rooms, the consort’s suite, which were in fine condition if dusty. She did not use them frequently.

“Where are we?”  Bilbo asked, looking around as Thorin led him towards the door on the far end of the hall.

“You’ll see,” he replied, then dropped Bilbo’s hand and pushed open the door.

The sun outside was warm. The garden looked absolutely gorgeous in the early afternoon glow. This was the only reason his mother ever went through her rooms. She’d come to tend the garden every few days. Thorin looked at Bilbo. He didn’t have to say anything, as the hobbit moved from the room and out of the mountain.

Bilbo grinned, leaning down to softly touch the plants. He glanced back at Thorin, beaming, and Thorin felt relief surge in his chest, that Bilbo liked it immediately. Trying to impress a hobbit was increasingly difficult. They didn’t have much in common, besides the interest in books and food, but even then Bilbo certainly had more interest in that than Thorin did

“I didn’t think there would be any gardens in the mountain!“

Thorin almost blurted that the garden was his mother’s but bit down the words, keeping from ruining everything. "It is the Queen Consort’s.”

Bilbo blinked, glanced around and then took a step back closer to Thorin. “I don’t think that just anyone would be allowed into her garden,” He frowned in confusion.

“No,” agreed Thorin. “I am... closely related to the royal family.”

“Oh.” Bilbo looked down at their feet, his mouth turned down.

He thought about saying something else but the moment felt too perfect, too right. Slowly, he moved closer to Bilbo. He reached out and cupped his cheek, tilting his head up to him. Bilbo blinked up at him in surprise.

“ _Sasakhabiya abnâmul_ ,” he said. Bilbo’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.

Thorin ducked his head down and closed the gap between them. He didn’t finish closing it, however. It was Bilbo that did, surging forward and kissing Thorin desperately while gripping the front of his shirt.

It was a short, light kiss but it felt like an entire world of its own.

As Bilbo backed away, Thorin saw the guilt blooming on his face. Thorin wanted desperately to assure him he had done nothing wrong but he couldn’t. He cleared his throat instead. He knew Bilbo felt bad only because he thought he’d been kissing Korrin, and if only Thorin could tell him that nothing was wrong.

It was too late for that, though.

“And you are engaged to Prince Thorin, are you not?” Thorin kept his voice steady, eyes watching Bilbo nervously. “I doubt his mother will protest your presence here.”

“Right, yes,” the hobbit laughed strangely, curling his fingers together and looking down. His voice was quiet. “I wish I was marrying you, Korrin.”

There was an awkward pause, where Thorin gaped at him and tried desperately to find words. Bilbo turned bright red, turning his head in the opposite direction of Thorin.

“Could, could we pretend I didn’t just say that?” He fidgeted uncomfortably, until Thorin cleared his throat. Bilbo looked back at him, desperation in his eyes.

“I’m sure you’ll like Prince Thorin,” he said, watching Bilbo visibly relax. “I don’t think all the things you may have heard about him are entirely true.”

“Yes, well,” Bilbo smiled sadly, looking back down at the flowers. “Maybe he won’t be so bad.”

They stayed in the garden for a while longer, though Thorin could feel the awkwardness between them widening. If only he had not kissed Bilbo, or at least, initiated a kiss between them. Now, he knew for sure that Bilbo felt the same as him.

It did not feel good like he thought it would.

He kept imagining the look of shock on Bilbo’s face, the one he would see in two days. Betrayal, too. Would Bilbo ever be able to trust him?

Thorin had absolutely ruined everything for them. He was sure of it.

When it had dipped into late afternoon, Thorin knew he had to make sure Bilbo got back to the others. If he kept him out too long, someone would come looking for Bilbo and then everything would be worsened.

Why did he care? He’d already messed up the whole of it, what did it matter if they were discovered now?

Some part of Thorin argued against those thoughts, however. It would still be better if he kept Bilbo out of trouble until then. At least he could feel better about that. They could deal with it privately. Bilbo would never be at fault.

“Bilbo,” he said quietly, startling the hobbit.

“Yes?”

“We should go. I shouldn’t keep you any longer.”

“Oh, yes, yes,” said Bilbo, standing up fully. They walked back slowly, until they were at the top of the stairs down into the market. It was a good place to get lost in and not be discovered with Bilbo. The hobbit smiled up at him. It looked genuine. He was not as upset with Thorin as he should have been. Thorin swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“I’ll shall see you tomorrow? I’ve a dreadfully long lesson with Balin, he wants to teach me the basics of the Khuzdul used in the marriage ceremony. We’ll meet at the usual place?”

Thorin only smiled in return but that seemed to placate Bilbo before he left, likely to find Dís or Frerin to spend time with.

He’d made a decision, hoping to distance himself from Bilbo before the wedding. Perhaps the hobbit would be able handle the shock of his lying better then.

The next day, Bilbo endured the Khuzdul lesson from Balin. The language used for the marriage ceremony was complicated, drawing from their ancient tongue. He would definitely butcher it, one way or another. The hobbit could barely wrap his head around the language he was being taught, much less the ancient version of it. He was, however, beginning to understand it slowly. On the occasion, he would catch words or phrases he could understand. Nothing concrete enough for in depth conversations but he would be there one day.

Balin seemed to sense he was antsy and let him go earlier than normal.

Bilbo, intent on finding Korrin as soon as he could, hurried down the hall. They hadn’t agreed on a place to meet. The library was always a good guess. As he rounded the corner into the library, he didn’t see anyone at all. Ori would usually be there to greet him, but he wasn’t, neither was the head librarian. It was quiet. He frowned. Korrin was not there either.

He sighed, then thought of the market. The dwarf guard might be there! He turned on his heel but paused at a strange sound coming from the shelves. Someone was in here. He might be able to ask them if they had seen any dwarf guards recently.

Whoever was in the library was far back in the shelves. He wandered through them, peeking down the rows of books. The library was huge in comparison to anything he’d seen. Hopefully he would one day have the time to explore it more.

The sound came from his left now, close, and he poked his head around the corner of the end of a shelf. Immediately, he pulled back. Suddenly, Bilbo was glad that hobbits were quiet on their feet. He made noise, knocking his elbow ‘accidentally’ against the shelf.

“Ow,” he grumbled, rubbing at his elbow as he truly rounded the shelf. That would be enough.

Bafarr jumped back, her face turning red. Just behind her, Tagyna cleared her throat and tidied her hair. Her cheeks were reddening.

“My apologies,” Bilbo said, glancing away from them in embarrassment. “I didn’t think anyone was here.”

Tagyna grumbled in Khuzdul, although Bilbo couldn’t parse any of it out. Bafarr offered him a smile, though it was strained.

“What are you looking for, Bilbo? I’m afraid all of the books back here are unreadable to you.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I was looking for a guard, actually.”

“Well you’ve found one!” She said it cheerfully, smacking her hand on his shoulder. He caught himself before he lost his balance.

Bilbo didn’t know if she would know where Korrin was. He also didn’t want to ask, suddenly. The hobbit could tell he’d trespassed on something. All he wanted to do now was escape out of the situation. He had a feeling both dwarrowdams probably desired that too. Especially Tagyna, who was frowning at Bafarr’s back.

“Ah, actually, I didn’t…” he scratched the side of his nose. “It’s not very important, you seem busy…”

Bafarr blushed more, if that were possible.

“I am your guard, Bilbo. What do you need?”

“Really, it’s nothing! Please…” Bilbo gestured awkwardly. “I’ll go find someone else. It’s not urgent.”

Though Bafarr frowned, Tagyna butted in before she could say anything else. Her expression was nicer than it had been in the last few seconds.

“ _Akhminruki astû_ ,” she said, bowing her head slightly.

Bilbo fumbled for a moment, processing the words before he could properly respond. This at least he had learned. “ _Ya harmu_.”

At that, Tagyna smiled more before taking Bafarr’s hand in hers. “You are going to do well here, Bilbo. We will go now.”

Bilbo watched them go, noting that Bafarr had not stopped blushing. He sighed and left the library, feeling as though he understood very little about dwarves again. Without the guidance of another guard, Bilbo had no idea where to look past the market. Korrin was not there either, when he looked. Perhaps he would see him the next day. He hoped to see the dwarf one more time before the wedding. Bilbo wanted to talk about what happened between them. He liked Korrin’s friendship, and maybe Korrin more than he should have, but he didn’t want to lose his friend.

The morning of the wedding, Bilbo woke and stared at his wall for a good while. He’d been in a foul mood the last two days. Korrin had been nowhere to be found yesterday, either.

It had to have been the kiss. That, however, confused Bilbo a good deal. Korrin had been the one to initiate it, even though Bilbo had finished it. They’d kissed and he thought it awkward but the more he’d thought on it, the more he’d decided they could figure it out.

Korrin did not think so apparently. It hurt a little.

It didn’t matter anymore, all considered. Today, he was going to marry Prince Thorin. He was going to like Prince Thorin, he hoped. Perhaps one day he could have love for this dwarf as well. It could happen, he thought. It wasn’t impossible, after all.

Before he could even think about getting out of bed, Dori burst into his room followed by Balin. The two looked quite serious and Bilbo only wanted to hide under his blankets in response. He did not need this. He wished he could go right back to sleep.

“Up, up,” ordered Dori while the Balin moved about the room. “We’ve got to start getting you dressed now. It is going to take a while.”

“And we need to go over the Khuzdul for the ceremony,” interjected Balin. “Thorin will be very impressed if you can recite it neatly. I fear there’s nothing we can do for your pronunciation, however.”

Bilbo grumbled, slowly getting out of bed. It was petty of him, as the sluggishness was merely an act. He could hear the impatient tap of Dori’s boot. It was his wedding day; he would move at the pace he deemed acceptable at this hour of the morning. The two dwarves exchanged glances but an idea seemed to take form in Dori’s mind a moment later.

“Oh, you need breakfast! Balin, send for some breakfast before we start on all of this.”

The hobbit offered Dori a small, grateful smile. They’d been discussing this day all week long but he was not getting through all of it without breakfast. Maybe second breakfast too, but that would be stretching it with the dwarves. They had large enough meals to pacify him, at the least.

With the promise of breakfast secured, Bilbo woke himself up quicker. Dori and Balin had come barging in so suddenly, the hobbit hadn’t noticed what they had brought with them. He assumed most of it was from Dori, based on the look of it. Several different clothes were already laid out across a table. He recognized some of the clothing he had been fitted for since he’d arrived.

What he didn’t recognize was the dark robe folded next to the wedding clothes. It seemed to be accented with quite a good deal of gold thread, but he could not tell from where he stood nor with how it was folded.

Dori must have noticed him looking, as the dwarf cleared his throat to drag Bilbo’s attention back to him.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” said the dwarf before walking around Bilbo in a quick circle. “After you eat, we’ll need you to take a quick bath... that shall do, yes.”

“I’ve never been in protest of baths, you know. In fact, I am quite pro-bath. Especially after that trip here.”

“Hm,” was Dori’s only response.

By the time Bilbo had finished eating breakfast, he wanted to do nothing more than climb into his bed and sleep the day away. It was a good plan but not one he could go through with. The watchful eyes of the two dwarves kept him from even thinking about it for more than a moment. He was in the tub shortly after he’d finished eating, scrubbing at his skin thoroughly. He had a distinct feeling that if he did not do so, Dori might come in there himself and bathe Bilbo. The hobbit did not desire that to happen. Bilbo was very glad that despite the dislike between Erebor and Mirkwood, the mountain did trade with the elves. He’d been able to convince Korrin to buy him some of the flower-scented soaps from the elves.

Though, the dwarf had not looked pleased about it.

At the thought of Korrin, Bilbo dropped his eyes to the water. What if he never saw the dwarf again or very rarely? He wasn’t sure what he’d be allowed once he was married to Thorin. Not that he’d thought he’d be shouldered with many rules. The marriage contract hadn’t seemed restrictive in that manner.

He was bound to have responsibilities and duties. Not time to do what he wished. Bilbo sighed softly.

If he sat too much longer, Dori might come in. With great effort, the hobbit hoisted himself out of the tub and wrapped himself in one of the towels left in the bathing room for him. His clothes were folded neatly in the linen basket, but the dwarf had ordered him strictly not to get redressed.

Having to face two practical strangers with only a towel, Bilbo took a moment before stepping back into his rooms.

There were several more dwarves in the room than there had been when he’d gone into the bath. While he did not know all of the, he did recognize a few. Bafarr was among them and she offered a smile to Bilbo. She was standing and talking to a burly dwarf next to her. He had two axes on his back and the top of his head bald, with many tattoos.

Bilbo wanted to give him a wide berth but Dori reached out and tugged Bilbo to sit down on a stool. Where had that come from? He hadn’t thought his bath very long. It was hard to tell time in the mountain, though, so perhaps he had lingered long.

“Okay, okay, out! No, not you, stay,” said Dori sharply, glaring at a dwarf who had begun following the rest out. She scuttled back over towards them. The only dwarves left in the room were Dori, Balin, Bafarr, the burly dwarf, and the one he’d called back. “See this section of hair? I need you to braid it. The traditional marriage braids, please.”

He clutched the towel tighter, looking at Balin out of the corner of his eye. The old dwarf was muttering under his breath and occasionally shaking his head but he offered Bilbo a tight smile.

BIlbo looked back at Bafarr and the burly dwarf.

“Oh!” cried Bafarr, startling the dwarf braiding Bilbo’s hair. Dori glared at the guard. “Sorry, I just remembered you haven’t met Dwalin, right? He’d the head of the royal guard and Prince Thorin’s personal guard.”

His immediate thoughts were about Korrin, and whether Dwalin would be able to tell him anything, but he shook that off. It wasn’t his business and it would probably be in appropriate to ask about him. Things would be better for them this way. Wouldn’t they?

“Why are you not with Prince Thorin now?”

“You’ve met the rest of the family,” grumbled Dwalin. “An’ I don’t fancy being around all of them right now. Thorin couldn’t mind me checkin’ up on his betrothed.”

Balin rolled his eyes, though a smile threatened spilling forth.

Before too long, the dwarf had finished braiding the small section of hair behind Bilbo’s left ear. Dori dismissed her and then walked over to the clothes, looking over the various outfits with a critical, contemplative look. Bilbo supposed that the outfit he wore for the wedding was important. It felt too much of a hassle.

Were he married in the Shire, they would dress in their finest clothes but nothing to this degree. Not even the Tooks were this extravagant.  

“I think the blue suits best,” added Balin. Bilbo noticed he was not even looking at the clothing, but eyeing Bilbo. “The King will appreciate it, as will Thorin and many other dwarves.”

“Oh, you are right,” muttered Dori, picking up a pile of dark blue clothes. These too were accented with gold. “It will compliment Prince Thorin well. Oh, what color is he wearing today?”

“I didn’t check,” snorted Balin, stepping away from Dori and coming to stand next to Bilbo. “White, I should think.”

“This will do very nicely, then.”

“Now, Bilbo, I want you to go over these lines again, you struggled the most with these last night, they aren’t the most important part, but the more you can get them down…”

He’d have a headache by the end of the morning. Bilbo wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through the wedding, much less the following party. Hopefully there would be a good deal of food or Bilbo would be in a foul mood sooner than would be ideal.

While practicing the lines, he changed into the tunic and trousers. They were both dark blue, though the bottoms were a good deal darker than the tunic. It was styled very much like what he’d seen many dwarves wear. Not hobbitish at all, which felt quite strange.

Then, he spotted the boots.

“I am _not_ wearing those,” announced the hobbit, giving them a dreadful look.

Dori looked at them too, then at Bilbo.

“You have to.”

“Oh no, I will not leave the room if you make me!”

Dori spluttered then looked pleadingly at Balin. The older dwarf smiled nervously.

“Bilbo, you cannot walk around here without shoes all the time, especially not in the wedding ceremony. You must understand.”

“Watch me,” snapped Bilbo. “I am not wearing those offending things and you will not make me! I am hobbit, we pride ourselves on our feet and it would be quite uncomfortable besides.”

Dwalin chuckled, startling Bilbo and two dwarves standing with him.

“I think you should give up, he’s not goin’ to budge. A good match for Thorin, for sure.”

With that, Dori let out an enormous sigh and gave up on attempting to get Bilbo to wear the boots. He moved onto the black robe, unfolding delicately. It looked far too long to fit Bilbo properly but the dwarf looked even more insistent than he had about the boots.

“This is traditional,” said Balin while Dori went about helping Bilbo into the robe. “It is traditional for the one marrying a child of Durin’s line to wear. I feared it might be too long for you, but that shall be alright.”

Once it was fully on, Dori took a step back then beamed excitedly. “Oh, it looks lovely!”

Bilbo could not see himself, but he could feel the weight of the robe and how it trailed behind him. Now that he was wearing it, he could see the patterns of the gold embroidery on the sleeves. He had seen the embroidery on the back as well. It was very gorgeous, though far too heavy to wear comfortably.

Unfortunately, he could not take it off.

Bilbo Baggins felt quite silly.

“What now?”

Dori and Balin exchanged looks. “There are other things we need to go over with you before the ceremony, come.”

 

Bilbo breathed in and out slowly, focusing on the sound of his parents’ voices. They were here to see him moments before he would have to leave. He’d had lunch with them an hour ago. They’d stayed but he could see Dori hovering. If they wanted to be seated where they were supposed to be, they would have to leave in the next few minutes.

Balin and Dwalin had left, leaving Bilbo with Dori and Bafarr. From what he’d gathered, he would be walking down the aisle with Bafarr at his side. According to Balin, they did not suspect anyone would attempt to hurt Bilbo but they could never be too cautious. Besides, Bilbo had learned that the walkway had no rails to prevent him from falling. He felt immensely safer if Bafarr was to be at his side.

Belladonna ran a comforting hand carefully over his back.

“It will be just fine. I’ve met Thorin and he is a fine dwarf. A little grumpy, but I do not think that can be helped.”

“Don’t say that,” scolded Bungo, then smiled soothingly at Bilbo. But he didn’t say anything about Thorin himself, which worried Bilbo slightly.

“I hate to interrupt this,” said Dori. “But you two need to get to your seats. We’ll be needing to leave ourselves shortly.”

“Of course,” murmured Belladonna then kissed her son’s forehead. “I love you, so much, my faunt.”

Bungo hugged his son gently, though Bilbo could feel that he was restraining himself from hugging him tighter. He didn’t need to say what his wife had, Bilbo could see it in his father’s eyes. They both kept looking back at Bilbo as they left the room, until they were out of his sight.

Dori offered Bilbo a small smile.

“Remember everything Balin said, and everything that he has taught you. This is a long ceremony and if you can focus on what you need to do, it may go smoother and faster. I promise the party afterwards will be very nice! You’ll not need to wear that robe after the ceremony, either.”

Bafarr stood up, holding out her hand towards Bilbo. “Just in case,” she winked.

He startled when Dori touched both his shoulders gently. “I am very proud of you, Bilbo. I wanted to tell you, after your parents leave, if you ever have _any_ trouble, my brothers and I will be there for you.”

It was such a tender moment, Bilbo felt himself tearing up in surprise. Dori tutted and shook his head in response.

“None of that, now, go with Bafarr. I am sure you will do perfectly.”

They walked slowly down the halls and toward the hall where the ceremony would be happening soon enough. He could see no dwarves on their way. They were all in the hall, of course, but it felt strange.

Bafarr squeezed his hand gently and stopped before a large set of doors.

“Once we enter, you’ll be on the walkway. I will be just behind you, but don’t be afraid to take your time. We don’t want you falling. Prince Thorin will not care how long you take to reach the throne.”

He took a deep breath, let it out, then took another deep one. Bafarr looked at him for a signal and when he nodded, she pushed open the doors. They looked quite heavy though they swung open with ease. She took a step back, letting Bilbo walk in front of her.

The mere walk into the hall felt tremendous to do. For a moment, he was blinded by the sheer amount of dwarves in front and around him. Bilbo had never seen so many before. They were all about. Below him, sat the majority of the dwarves but a platform hung above and around them that held dwarves too. Far ahead on the walkway, a large pillar stood and at the top of it, where the walkway met, stood several dwarves.

From here, he could recognize King Thráin and Lady Fris. Frerin and Dís stood with them too, as well as Dís’ husband and their sons. In the middle, towards the back, stood Balin. Prince Thorin stood just in front of him, though more to the right. From here, he couldn’t make out much of what the prince looked like.

Taking a breath, Bilbo began to walk. He could hear the heavy footfalls of Bafarr from behind him. As he walked, he felt quite confident in his pace. It was not too quick, but not too slow as though he felt he was approaching a nasty aunt or uncle.

He’d been watching his feet mostly, partly worried that he might catch himself on the robe. It did drag behind him. The closer he came to the platform, though, the more he thought he should probably look up. Very slowly, in an attempt to keep an eye on his feet, Bilbo looked up.

Across the way, as he could see much better now, Korrin started at him. The dwarf looked nervous. Bilbo’s heart quickened for a single moment. What was he doing here?

It didn’t take too long for him to realize. Bilbo was not staring at Korrin, or rather he was, but he was also making eye contact with Prince Thorin.

The hot feeling of betrayal and confusion spiked in his chest instead. He could see the barely concealed guilt in the Prince’s eyes. Bilbo had not mistaken his appearance with Korrin’s. They were the same person.

Which meant, Thorin had been spending time with him and blatantly lying to him, fully aware of what was he doing. Not only that…

Bilbo had kissed him. He’d been worried of that kiss, of its possible consequences but he’d not kissed a dwarf guard, he had kissed Thorin, his betrothed. It should have offered him some relief, knowing that, but it only made him angrier. Why had Thorin said nothing?

Despite the feelings swarming his mind, the hobbit made his way across the walkway steadily. The anger forming in his gut kept him moving until he stood across from Thorin on the platform. Bafarr had disappeared behind the King and Queen Consort.

He smiled coolly at Thorin, focusing his attention somewhere left of the dwarf’s eyes. The stone in this hall was quite pretty, he thought.

Balin cleared his throat, noticing the tension between the two. Bilbo reigned his anger in slightly. It wouldn’t do to have a fight out here. He’d already promised all of this and he was going to go through it. Whether or not his betrothed was a liar. That was not his problem.

The harsh sound of Khuzdul filled the hall and echoed back at them. Bilbo met Thorin’s eyes after a moment, trying at a smile that looked less angry. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded, as it seemed that Thorin was schooling his expression into neutral. Bilbo did wonder what he was thinking and feeling right now. He hoped it was a good deal of regret and guilt.

Then came the time for their vows. Thorin’s expression slipped into something kinder, his eyes unable to conceal a tenderness that made Bilbo uncomfortable. Did Thorin then truly have feelings for him?

He’d never heard Korrin, or rather Thorin, speak in Khuzdul like this. It had always been short, attempting to teach him the simple basics. His voice sounded even lovelier than when speaking in Westron. It only added to Bilbo’s anger, though that had started to uncoil. Thorin looked at him in such a way, he couldn’t explain it, but he felt the time they’d spent together slipping through.

It was a glance from Balin as Thorin came to the end of his vows that made sure Bilbo started on his. He was worried he’d stumble over the words, as they still felt strange coming out of his mouth. Yet, he somehow managed not to. The words did not flow easily but they were not stumbled over or garbled in his mouth. Khuzdul sounded choppier from him, not as smooth as Thorin’s voice. Thorin only smiled at him as they stood there. He did seem impressed by the recital of the vows. Though, he’d been helping Bilbo with his Khuzdul, how surprised could he be?

As he came to the end, some part of Bilbo wanted to drop all his anger. Yes, Thorin had lied to him, and he would certainly be having a talk once they were alone. He didn’t know how he’d feel about Thorin if they had never met at all before the ceremony. At least this way, he knew that he liked the dwarf quite well. The feelings that he’d been trying to push down could blossom into something more, if he let them.

Yet, the anger in his chest had not fully vanished. No matter what, Thorin had lied to him. How could he fully trust him?

They were definitely going to have a talk the first moment they were alone for a good while. Which would probably be tonight, after the celebration that was to follow the ceremony. Though Balin had run through most of the ceremony with him, he had said there were certain parts he could not perform or show Bilbo, as they were done completely by Thorin.

The old dwarf had uttered something in Khuzdul, causing a great cheer to rise up from the gatherings of dwarves.

Bilbo looked away from Balin and focused on Thorin, who had bowed his head slightly. He noticed Frerin and Dís approaching them now. He’d been so focused on Thorin earlier that he had not even noticed they were both holding small pillows which had two circlets resting upon them. One looked very much like King Thráin’s, though the other did not.

The other was so different that Bilbo’s eyes lingered on it before he could register who it was for. Unlike the dark gold and black of the other crown, this one had a light silver, almost white base. It did not curve like the King’s did. It seemed weaved together, gold shaped into leaves that had a black gem at the center. There were thin pieces of gold molded and connected between the leaves.

During his observation of this crown, Thráin had stepped forward. Bilbo had only registered him as there when he began speaking in booming Khuzdul. He watched as the king took the crown similar to his and placed it on Thorin’s bowed head. Bilbo’s eyes moved back to the other crown, the realization that it was for him dawning.

What he did not expect was for Thorin to straighten up, take the other crown carefully and place it on Bilbo’s head as he spoke in Khuzdul, similar to what his father had just done.

Following that, Balin spoke a few more words in their language before smiling at Bilbo and Thorin. Bilbo knew how weddings usually went, at least in the Shire, it ended with a kiss between the newlyweds. Strangely, Thorin did not look like he was moving in for a kiss. In fact, he reached out both his hands for Bilbo’s. Slightly confused, Bilbo took hold of his hands and the prince beamed, while the dwarves all burst into cheering and what Bilbo thought might be crying for some.

He did not understand dwarves very well at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul:  
> Sasakhabiya abnâmul - You look beautiful  
> Akhminruki astû - thank you  
> Ya harmu - you're welcome
> 
> ehhhhehehe? I'm sorry it took forever for this chapter to come out but I've been stressed out with school. I was really excited to finally publish the KISS and also I promise that these two will resolve things and communicate way better after this. They're just gonna have a little trouble first. 
> 
> Also bonus Bafarr and Tagyna? This was not in the original draft but it popped into my head and I wanted to slip them in.
> 
> Although I included these in the graphic (I think), I wanted to link the [robe](http://lovelylilpup.tumblr.com/post/88128936439/ooksaidthelibrarian-travellinganachronism) and the [crown](http://68.media.tumblr.com/d4cc412ac73fd10142c1be6c63fb96f9/tumblr_mm5u6d9BhF1qb1e70o1_500.jpg).


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding celebration happens and Bilbo begins settling into life in Erebor and with Thorin. Well, he's trying.

The celebration after the wedding had gone off without a hitch. They’d moved from the large throne hall into yet another large hall. Bilbo had never been in this area of the mountain before. It was decorated, certainly for a wedding, though nothing like hobbits might. Several times, Bilbo found himself distracted from conversations by the tapestries hung high on the walls. How had those been hung there? The tapestries depicted one dwarf, or Bilbo assumed, throughout what looked like many great battles and kingdoms.

Thorin caught him admiring them.

“These are of Durin the Deathless. I read you the tale, you remember?”

Bilbo pressed his lips tightly together. He did recall the tales. They had been in the same book that Thorin had first read from. When he did not say anything, Thorin filled the silence.

“They are displayed when a child of Durin’s line is married. We pray to Mahal for good will and prosperity in marriage. Yet we acknowledge that it cannot always be perfect.” Thorin paused, his eyes intense on Bilbo. The hobbit looked up at one of the tapestries. “We accept that there will be strife, on occasion, but that we will not let it get the best of us. Mahal provides us with strength and endurance.”

“And Durin?”

Thorin made a quiet noise, searching Bilbo’s face for a moment before speaking. “Durin is always returned back from our father’s halls. He endures. Sometimes, Durin’s life is full of strife, war, as you see. Other times, there is prosperity.” He pointed at one of the tapestries depicting a kingdom. “Besides that, I am descended directly from his line. This is my family’s history.”

 _Speaking of family_ , Bilbo thought as his parents and the direct members of Thorin’s family descended on them. Seeing all of the royal family together overwhelmed Bilbo and as he took a minor step back, he felt Thorin’s steadying hand on the small of his back.

There was a bout of congratulations from everyone, though Bilbo wondered at that. It was not as if they were marrying because of love. Perhaps it was traditional to congratulate the wedded. Neither Bungo or Belladonna appeared disgruntled by congratulating their son on his marriage. Perhaps they were happy for him, regardless of whether the marriage was out of love or not. He couldn’t really understand it but everyone else seemed cheerful. That included Thorin, who was smiling as he conversed with his father.

Thrain broke their conversation suddenly, his voice booming out across the hall. That surprised Bilbo. Several of the guests’ heads turned in their direction. “ _Ag zâblagi targê_!”

“Oh, I agree,” said Fris, taking her husband’s arm. “Let the dinner be served. I am sure our hobbit guests are famished.”

“Now that you say it,” Bungo agreed, following Belladonna towards one of the tables. “That ceremony was longer than our traditional ceremonies.”

“Oh, truly not? It wasn’t very long!”

“Ah, you see, hobbits…”

Bilbo did not catch the rest of the conversation between Bungo and Fris, as they walked out of earshot. The tables were almost all the way across the large hall. Now that he could take in more of it, he realized that the hall was separated into two distinct areas. Clearly, the area with the tables was for eating. The area he and Thorin stood in seemed to be more for socializing. If dwarves had wedding dances, he supposed this also might be where they would take place.

Thorin held out his arm.

Despite his refusal to say more than a few words, Bilbo did take his arm. He could not appear rude. Thorin lead them to the tables, where they sat in the midst of everything. Bilbo’s parents say nearby to his left and Thrain and Fris were seated on Thorin’s left. It all felt very focused on them and it made Bilbo uncomfortable.

Hobbit weddings were just not like this!

To Bilbo, there was plenty food and drink. He’d spent the rest of the night by Thorin’s side, which was not bad but he’d continued on refusing any lengthy conversations between them. He could tell the Prince had been ruffled by this, but had not reacted in any outward way. Bilbo feared he might have an outburst if he said more than a few words. In any case, he at least looked the part of a happy newlywed. Or he thought. He didn’t know how the dwarves were reacting to him. No one had said anything, though, which was a good sign.

There was no cake, like there was at hobbit weddings. Dwarves did not seem as keen about sweets as hobbits did. Though perhaps this was because they did not farm their own lands. A lack of farming meant they had to go through other avenues and such resources might be used differently. Especially, Bilbo thought, since they did not put as much emphasis on food as hobbits did.

Thus, when they were done with the main course, there was only what Bilbo considered snacking foods left. At least he would not starve if this celebration was longer. His parents did not seem very disturbed by the lack of cake, although they were also preoccupied across the hall with attempting the dance some of the dwarves had been doing. He watched them with a little amusement. Dwarves and hobbits did not dance anything like. Also, he might have been fearful of having his toes stepped on. That was a fairly rational fear, though. The dwarves had bulky boots, after all.

He started a little when Thorin touched his shoulder. He frowned at the dwarf, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We should dance,” Thorin said, nodding over towards the couples of dwarves dancing. Bungo and Belladonna were starting to get ahold of the dance. Bilbo hadn’t noticed, but Dis and her husband had joined as well.

After a pause, Bilbo nodded and let Thorin lead him over to where the other dancers were. Belladonna gave him an encouraging smile as she passed by with Bungo. Bilbo had been lucky enough to have already learned the steps to the dance, although at the time he didn’t know if he would count it as lucky. Now, though, he didn’t regret having learned the steps. It meant he didn’t look foolish dancing with Thorin, especially in front of so many of the kingdom’s people. Good impressions and all that.

He tried to ignore how well Thorin could dance. He tried very, very hard to ignore how comfortable it was to dance with the dwarf prince.

Bilbo had also had several dances with others, including his parents and most of the royal family. It was quite pleasant in the end, until he grew too tired to continue dancing about. Thorin had noticed and started ushering him out of the large hall, to the sound of several dwarves hooting and likely saying lewd things in Khuzdul.

Then, Bilbo had not cared. He was thinking of falling on his soft bed and not worrying about anything for the following hours of sleep. Except, Thorin had not led them into the guest quarters. As they walked, Bilbo realized that he would not be living in the guest quarters anymore. Of course not, he scolded himself.

Now, he was married to Thorin. He would be sharing rooms with Thorin, sharing his bed…

Something changed in his overall attitude. There were _things_ you were supposed to do after being married, especially the night of the wedding.

He had not thought of that at all and the anger he felt toward Thorin earlier had not fully dissipated yet. Bilbo couldn’t do that. There was absolutely no way.

As they came into the room, he stopped and looked around curiously. These were to be his room, after all. He could certainly take his time and look about. Thorin could not stop him. In fact, his new husband did not even try. The dwarf merely watched him, not moving from where he stood in the middle of the room.

From what he could gather, based on the fireplace and armchairs and table, they were in a receiving room of some sort. Or maybe just a living room, did Thorin even receive visitors as they King did? The fireplace was cold, and the wall above it was empty. Bilbo thought about the pictures of his parents. They could go there. It would be nice.

Thorin cleared his throat. With a deep breath, Bilbo turned around to face him.

“Are you going to talk to me now?”

Bilbo did not respond at first, too surprised. He’d not thought that would be what Thorin said. But he remembered the promise he’d made himself earlier. They were alone now and they would be all night.

“I don’t appreciate being lied to, you know,” said Bilbo, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d taken off the robe and the crown had been likely taken back here, somewhere in the many rooms. “Especially in regards to who you are!”

“It was a mistake,” said Thorin quickly, then winced. “I did not… I had no idea you were in the marketplace that day, much less what to say when you ran into me. I.. you have to understand, Bilbo, I wanted to meet you.”

“And? What else?” Bilbo could feel his anger rising again.

“If you knew it was me, would you have continued talking to me? After all, my father did not wish for us to meet, worried I would mess everything up. But I did anyway,” said Thorin, then looked down, his hair blocking his face from view.

Bilbo snorted, causing the dwarf to look back up immediately.

“You’re assuming quite a lot, you know,” said the hobbit and walked closer to Thorin. “I am not happy with you, but did you forget the last thing that happened between us?”

“Of course I did not,” Thorin looked pained. “I understand; you must regret it even more now.”

“Hardly,” said Bilbo softly, the confession a surprise to him. “I suppose this is just something we will have to work through. You wanted to know me more before we married. I wanted to know you more too, you know. Your brother and sister would not tell me anything about you at all, besides saying again and again that you ‘weren’t that bad’”.

Thorin looked apologetic, but there was a quiet smile forming on his face.

“Don’t think this means I am not angry at you. I am. I think I shall be for some time.”

“Okay,” said Thorin quietly, the tentative smile dropping. “I understand I, I would not expect anything from you at all.”

“At least you’re sensible,” returned Bilbo, looking around the room again. Most of the anger had indeed dissipated now, but he knew it would be a little while before he felt everything that had happened would be forgiven. “Show me to our bedroom? I am exhausted and I want to sleep.”

“Of course.”

Thorin led him through a door on the opposite wall of the one they’d entered through, into a hall. There were a few doors but he went to the one at the end.

“There are quite a lot of rooms in here,” remarked Bilbo, pausing while Thorin held the door open.

“Aye,” said Thorin, looking around the hall. “We may be expected to live here for a while. There is a study, a bathing room, and a few children’s rooms.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow.

“Well, we will not have any children, but my mother and father had the three of us close enough and they wanted each of us to have our own rooms when we were young dwarfs.”

“I see,” murmured Bilbo, giving the children’s rooms that Thorin had indicated interested looks before heading into their room.

It was quite large, for a single room meant for sleeping and not much else. Besides that, the bed itself was enormous, even for a dwarf. The room had a desk as well, a bookcase (stocked well, he’d have to take a look in the morning), and a large dresser.

On the floor, instead of stone, there was a rug that covered almost all of the room. He could see the smooth stone in some corners, but not enough that he would accidentally step on it. The rug looked quite new.

Thorin looked flustered. 

“I, ah, I thought you might like, if our bedroom had a rug, for your feet.”

“Oh,” said Bilbo, padding towards the bed. “That’s kind of you but my feet would not care about the stone, nor would I.”

He glanced at Thorin, who had his boots on still.

“Though, maybe it would be good for you. I certainly hope you are not planning on trouncing around our rooms in your boots. It’s rather rude to hobbits.”

That was not a lie, though he did not care particularly about footwear as other hobbits did. He amused himself with the thought of Thorin’s tiny feet naked in their room. The dwarf, on the other hand, looked uncomfortable with the idea.

“At least in the bedroom,” added Bilbo. Thorin’s expression changed, apparently that seemed more reasonable than the rest of their rooms. Bilbo hoped that the no boots rule would being applied to the bathing room as well. It seemed logical. One didn’t bathe with their boots on, did they?

A moment later, Bilbo had flopped unceremoniously on the bed with a huge sigh. It was extremely soft and there were far too many pillows to count. Not only that, there was plenty enough room. He could distance himself from Thorin easily on his bed.

Speaking of, he hadn’t heard a thing out of Thorin since he’d flopped onto the bed. He rolled over to look at his husband, to find him bent over and taking off his boots quickly. His heart fluttered slightly. Ridiculous.

Both of them.

He felt too conflicted to say anything. He knew deep down he’d formed feelings for the dwarf that could not be gotten rid of in any possible scenario, short of Bilbo never seeing him again. For the time being, he would let his anger be and figure out from there where they were.

Thorin stood up, out of his boots, then paused.

“I can sleep somewhere else, of course.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. He was not uncomfortable sharing a bed with his husband. Especially if they were merely sleeping. It was certainly big enough for them to both be comfortable.

“I think we can both handle sharing a bed for sleep, Thorin.”

The dwarf looked incredibly uncomfortable when he spoke again.

“We don’t have to-”

“Oh, I know we don’t.” Bilbo knew he sounded too amused for his own good and by the look on Thorin’s face, it was true.

The moment Thorin had said that he’d sleep somewhere else, Bilbo had known that the prince would not be doing anything at all. Not tonight, at the least, though Bilbo had a feeling that nothing at all would happen if he did not express interest firsthand.

Thorin seemed that sort of person, and that was not a bad thing. It was not a problem, as it gave Bilbo the opportunity and time to think over his own feelings on the matter. That was not something he’d ever had to truly consider.

Thorin sat down on the edge of the bed, looking still very awkward about the matter of sleeping in the same bed as Bilbo. This must have been a dwarf oddity. It was in the same manner how he’d been when invited into Bilbo’s room.

Though now he wondered if that was because of who he truly was.

“You are going to sleep in those clothes?” questioned Thorin. His eyes had flicked quickly over the wedding clothes and then back up to Bilbo’s face.

“I don’t believe any of my belongings are in here yet.”

Thorin frowned, then stood up. “I can ask someone to-”

“I don’t mind. Dori’s the one who will have a fit about it, but I’m exhausted and I don’t want to wait for proper sleeping clothes right now.” Bilbo said before Thorin could go anywhere.

It did feel exhilarating to sleep in such nice clothes, rather than his night shirt. Well, he wouldn’t tell Thorin that. It wasn’t hobbitish of him, nor did it seem to be very dwarfish.

After a moment, the dwarf nodded, though he did look thoroughly confused. Bilbo supposed it came from their interactions together and that it was not normally something the hobbit would do. He did not want to prevent Thorin from being comfortable in their own rooms, though.

“You can change, you know,” pointed out Bilbo.

Thorin made an affirmative noise before he turned and approached the dresser in the room. He opened it, but from where Bilbo lay, he could not see the contents of it. The prince poked about it in the dresser for a few minutes before he began to undress.

Bilbo turned his eyes elsewhere, focusing on the candle on the bedside table. He’d noticed before that the candles were lit. The idea of having people serving him felt strange. Despite being in good standing in the Shire, the most help they had was Holman, the gardener.

But he supposed that a prince was not expected to do everything for himself.

Eventually, he felt the bed sink under the weight of his husband. With a quiet breath, Bilbo rolled onto his back. The canopy of the bed blocked him from seeing the ceiling. Next to him, Thorin fidgeted until he seemed to be comfortable enough to stop moving about.

“I suppose,” murmured the dwarf. “I should wish you good dreams.”

“Indeed,” said Bilbo as he moved to blow out of the candle. “Sweet dreams, Thorin.”

By the time the morning of his parents’ departure came, the entirety of his and Thorin’s rooms had been decorated with Bilbo’s belongings. Thorin had helped Bilbo hang the portraits of Belladonna and Bungo. He’d been confused about where to put the map, though. After a long debate, they’d decided to hang it in the study. It ended up fitting quite nicely there.

According to Thorin, it would be his too, if he desired to use it. While he fancied the thought, Bilbo had no good idea what he would actually do within the study. He’d never picked up on his father’s writing skill. Perhaps it might come to him now.

The sound of the door opening startled Bilbo from where he was holding one of his books. He wasn’t sure if he should put it in their bedroom or elsewhere. Thorin’s bookcase, or rather the bookcase in the bedroom, did not have much more room for other books. He turned to the door.

Belladonna smiled at her son as she walked in, followed by her husband. Bungo glanced around. Neither of them had been in these rooms, though Bilbo had spent a good time of the last few days with his parents. His feelings towards and for Thorin had grown more complicated over the last few days. He had not been able to see too much of him, as Thorin became quite involved with the last of the negotiations between their people.

He set down the book, hugging his mother and smiling at his father.

“Well, it’s not Bag End,” said his father, earning a glare from his mother. “But I think it will work fine for you. You have too much of your mother in you.”

Bungo looked fond even as he said it. Belladonna rolled her eyes, but it was a fond gesture. She pulled away from him and patted his cheek gently.

“Don’t listen to your father,” she said, though she too glanced around before smiling at him. “We’ve come to say goodbye.”

Even though he knew that was why they were here, that they were leaving today, Bilbo could barely manage a nod. The fact that his parents were leaving, that he might not see them again, it hadn’t truly occurred to him until he’d was forced to confront it head on. Tears started blurring his vision.

They noticed his face fall before he could hide it.

“Oh, Bilbo,” murmured his mother. “It’ll be just fine. I am sure King Thráin will let you visit us soon in the future, or Thorin will, depending. I am sure of that.”

He nodded. Each of his movements felt heavy.

“I, I am going to miss you, that’s all,” he managed after a moment, his voice thick. He couldn’t look his mother in the eyes and when he attempted to look at his father, he couldn’t do the same with him.

“As we will miss you,” said Bungo, coming closer and squeezing Bilbo’s shoulder gently. “Son, we will definitely write you. Even if we cannot see each other all the time, I promise we are not to disappear from your life entirely.”

“I know that,” defended Bilbo softly, smiling despite his tears.  

He could write letters in the study. That was _something_ he could do. Bilbo would not be so hopeless, even if he was the only hobbit under the mountain.

The door to his and Thorin’s bedroom came open. Bilbo hadn’t even realized the dwarf was in there, much too occupied with his plans to finish decorating in the receiving room. Said dwarf paused on the threshold of the room, then smiled tightly.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Baggins,” he greeted, coming up to Bilbo’s side. “I trust you are satisfied with everything and will be departing by noon?”

“That is the plan,” said Belladonna, then smiled at Bungo and Bilbo. “I can’t believe we are already headed back!”

“You are more than welcome to stay longer, if that is your wish,” said Thorin quickly, his face changing slightly.

Belladonna smiled but ignored the eager, pleading look that her son gave her.

“I appreciate that, Prince Thorin, I do, and I’m sure Bungo does, but we should head home before too long,” she said, then took her husband’s hand. “Hobbits will not wait too long before they decide we are dead, even with letters sent ahead of us, and I fear if we stay much longer, it will be that much harder to leave.”

Bungo nodded in agreement, sending Bilbo a soft look.

Thorin nodded, his hand settling onto Bilbo’s shoulder gently. It almost startled him, but he’d already started adjusting to the light, cautious touches from his husband. They were only ever when they were in the presence of others, which might have bothered Bilbo slightly, if he was not angry with Thorin.

“Then we shall see you off.”

It felt strange to stand at the gate, waving goodbye to his parents from afar. He refused to move from his spot until he could no longer see them on the horizon. Bilbo had no idea how much time had passed before he could bear retreating back inside the mountain. Everything about it felt so real. If he turned his back on them now, he feared he would never seem them again. There was nothing he could do, though. Thorin stayed by his side the entire time.

He was making it very hard to stay angry.  

“Thank you,” Bilbo said as they walked back towards their rooms. He wasn’t sure what they were doing, especially with the rest of the day ahead of them. His husband gave him a mildly confused look. “I am probably silly to you.”

“You’re not,” said Thorin quietly as they stepped into the room. He looked at the portraits over the fireplace. “They are your parents; how could you not miss them or want them to leave?”

“I suppose…” Bilbo sighed as he looked about their room. “I feel, I mean, I never thought I would live without them.”

“It is much like dwarf tradition,” said Thorin, approaching the fireplace. The fire had been stoked recently, else it might have been out by now. “We live with our family for as long as we live. You may have noticed that, already.”

“I did,” murmured the hobbit, walking up to stand next to Thorin. “It’s not quite the same, though. Not all hobbits live with their families their whole lives. Besides, my mother moved in with my father when they married. I noticed your sister’s husband lives here.”

“Yes,” agreed Thorin. “It is different, then. It was his choice and hers. They made it together. She could have lived with his family. I think it pleased my father that he chose to live here. Dís is the youngest and my father’s only daughter.”

“Are daughters rare?” Bilbo furrowed his brow.

Thorin hummed and then nodded.

“Dwarf children are rare enough as it is, so any child is precious. I do not know if he loves Dís as he does because she is the youngest or because she is his daughter. I think they are tightly intertwined.”

Bilbo smiled slightly. “This is strange. Children are not rare for hobbits. See, my mother was one of twelve and the eldest of three daughters.”

“Twelve?” choked out Thorin. Bilbo laughed in reply.

“Oh, yes, but I am only, well, I have no siblings myself.”

“How odd,” said Thorin, his eyes fixated on Belladonna’s portrait. “For you to be an only child in your culture, and for me to have two siblings in mine.”

“So it is.”

 

It was a week after the marriage ceremony and Bilbo had still not fully recovered his anger at Thorin. He was not sure why, though perhaps it had more to do with the trust that had been broken than anything else. By now, he knew he did like Thorin.

After all, he still wanted to kiss his husband, but he couldn’t do that. The tension between them did not allow for that. Besides, Thorin sensed something was wrong. He had not made any approach at all regarding that side of their relationship. At most, they were friends who were married. Even then, their friendship struggled. Bilbo had become friends with Korrin, though he knew Thorin was one in the same dwarf. He had no trouble realizing that Thorin loved books as much as he had before.

Things were complicated.

He’d been curled up in the study, reading one of the books from Thorin’s shelves. There were, surprisingly, a few in Westron. Unlike the ones Thorin had read him in the two weeks before their wedding, these were more historic than simple tales for children. His Khuzdul lessons were slow-going as well. Since Thorin did not regularly aid him, he could only do so much with Balin.

Bilbo startled, almost dropping the book onto the floor when the door opened. Thorin blinked at him, then smiled in slight amusement.

“My father wished to speak with us both.”

“Ah,” said Bilbo, shutting the book and putting it on the desk before he stood up. “What about?”

“He did not tell me,” admitted Thorin, frowning as they made their way out of their rooms and down the hall. “I cannot think of anything, either, that he would need both of us for. We shall see.”

They arrived in the King’s receiving room, though Thráin was not in there to see them come in. Bilbo looked about with a little frown. Why had the King called them and then not been immediately ready for them?

Thorin cleared his throat, bowing his head as his father walked into the room. Bilbo followed suit, bowing much lower until he heard Thráin chuckle. Bilbo stood up, feeling his ears redden slightly. He was not yet used to all the formalities and when they were supposed to happen. Or where he stood now, as Thorin’s husband. That may have elevated his status from a simple citizen but Thrain was a king no matter what.

“What have you called us here for, _adad_?”

“As you know, the elves of Mirkwood did not attend the marriage ceremony between you two,” said the king, beckoning them to follow him into the tea room.

Thorin scowled. “I am aware of that. Why bring it up?”

“They have requested that you and Bilbo visit. I do not know what they think they’re doing, but to blatantly refuse to send you both would be a bad choice.”

“We have to go, then. When?”

“Aye,” said Thráin, ignoring the question and offering Bilbo a cup of tea, though the hobbit gave him a curious look. What was he hiding? “You... must leave today.”

“Today?” shouted Thorin, standing up. He looked furious. Bilbo had not seen him like this.

“Sit down, Thorin,” scolded his father. To Bilbo’s surprise, the dwarf sat down immediately and looked upset at himself. “I knew you would not want to go either way, but you cannot make up an excuse now. Everything you need is already packed or will be soon enough. It is only for two days then you will be back here. I am certain you can handle that much.”

Unfortunately, Thorin looked like he might explode at the thought of spending even a moment near an elf. Bilbo would have to handle this.

“It won’t be bad,” assured Bilbo quickly, dragging Thorin’s attention onto him. “Besides, wouldn’t it be good for us to strengthen ties with the elves? Reform them?”

That was, apparently, not the right thing to say, as Thorin looked thunderous. Across the table, Thráin sighed but it seemed to be too late for Bilbo to correct his words. Not that he wanted to. He firmly believed that the dwarves and elves should try getting along for once. It would do well for both of them.

“I suppose I must prepare myself, then,” scowled Thorin, standing up and storming out of the room before anyone could do anything else. Bilbo stared after him then looked helplessly at Thráin.

“Well,” said the King, after a moment. “You probably shouldn’t have said that, but it’s not anything that can be helped now, I’m afraid. Would you like to hear more about your journey there?”

“Oh, yes,” Bilbo nodded, drinking heavily from his tea.

“I’ll be sending a few guards with you, as the Elves do not desire to come all the way to Erebor in order to escort you through the woods. They’ll be meeting you at the edge of the wood, where they left us, like they did when we arrived. I do not know who they will send this time,” admitted Thráin. “But they shall take you to the halls of the Elven King, Thranduil.”

“That sounds fine,” murmured Bilbo, his thoughts drifting towards Thorin and how he would handle all of this. He thought briefly of Tauriel. Perhaps she would be there. That wouldn’t be too bad and he might have a friend besides Thorin on the short journey. At least he would see her while they were in the hall of the King.

“You’ll be well defended, no matter, so you shouldn’t worry too much,” said the king and Bilbo offered him a slight smile in response.

“I think I should check on Thorin.” Bilbo stood and bowed his head respectfully. “Thank you for the tea.”

“Aye,” Thrain stood as well, escorting Bilbo out of his rooms. “See if you can calm him down. I’ll tell you, by the time you get to the halls, he will have at least simmered down. You are going to be good for him.”

“You think so,” Bilbo said, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I shouldn’t have to fix Thorin. As long as I have spent with him, he’s been fine.”

Other than the lying bit, but Thrain didn’t know about it and wouldn’t need to. At this point, there was really no reason to tell him or anyone else.

The dwarf king looked at him in surprise.

“As I said,” he added, “you will be good for him.”

Bilbo sighed in exasperation, walking back down the hall toward his rooms. They would manage the trip to Mirkwood. If he had to keep Thorin in check, keep him from directly insulting the elves, he could do that. Someone was going to have to, if they were going to rebuild the bonds between the dwarves and the elves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul:  
> Ag zâblagi targê - I am going to eat my beard! (aka, hungry or starving) 
> 
> This chapter is a liiitle shorter than the others, which I apologize for but I wanted to split it up at this point. We are getting into a lot of interaction between Bilbo and Thorin! They're dumb but they'll get around to being better communicators very soon. 
> 
> Also - there will be minor violence in the next chapter. Just a heads up!


	9. Chapter 9

As they left the mountain, Bilbo could feel regret mixing with his anger at Thorin. Obviously, suggesting that he attempt to get along with an elf or any elf at all had been the wrong action. His husband had barely said anything to him since the incident. As they walked out onto the road towards Dale, he continued to say nothing. It felt especially awkward around the guards.

He did not recognize any of them, and he’d been hoping that Bafarr might be among them. At least then he would have a friendly face. Besides, he was sure she was supposed to be his personal guard. For whatever reason, she’d not been assigned to escort them to the woods. Neither did he see Bofur. Since they’d returned to the mountain, Bofur had returned to mining, his true craft. It left little time for the two to spend any time together at all. Especially with everything from the wedding and arrangement.

The way they were taking to the Mirkwood was not the one that went through Dale. According to one of the guards, they were better off making their way across the land rather than following along the road and through Dale.

“If we want to arrive in time at the borders of Mirkwood,” agreed Thorin.

He dressed quite differently than he did in the mountain, much different from anything Bilbo had seen. For instance, he wore a large fur coat and his clothes were more protective than the finery worn inside of the mountain (but he suspected the dwarves all had a layer of light armor on at all times). Besides that, he also carried a sword with him, and what appeared to be a dagger of some sort. They accompanied each other, from what Bilbo could tell. He hadn’t realized before, but as he studied it, he realized the sword his husband had was one of the ones that Thráin had discovered in the troll hoard. He hadn’t learned the name, though he knew from Frerin that Thorin had used a sword named Deathless in the past. At the time, it had been a fact he’d been excited to learn.

He felt silly knowing it now, after all, Thorin would probably regularly use the sword his father had found.

In fact, Bilbo had begun to feel as though he didn’t know much about Thorin at all. Even his days interacting with Thorin when he’d been masquerading as Korrin, did not quite live up to the dwarf he was married to. Thorin certainly _did_ share the interests that he had claimed when they’d first met. After all, when Thorin _was_ in their rooms, Bilbo could easily find him reading.

There was more to Thorin, but he had no idea how to discover it. They were both not talking to each other at the moment, which hardly helped matters. Bilbo secretly hoped they might be able to mend their budding relationship before it was snuffed. However, he also was not sure they would be alone at all over the next two days. They had their guards right now and then they would be in the presences of the elves. Perhaps they might have time alone at night, but he feared Thorin might find an excuse to continue not talking to him.

He had hardly said anything wrong, no matter what the stubborn dwarf wanted to personally believe.

They’d been walking for some time, the woods becoming clearer on the horizon. According to what Thráin had said, it would take another hour to actually meet up with the elves at the rendezvous point. Neither Bilbo nor Thorin actually knew where that was, but their guards did and they would guide them. A cry carried to them on the wind startled Bilbo. He thought it sounded familiar but he could not identify what it was. The dwarves, on the other hand, seemed keenly aware of it and more than that, knew what it had come from.

One of the guards pulled out his sword, followed by the other. They indicated for Thorin to take a step back behind them.

Bilbo fell behind Thorin, his breath becoming panicky as he saw what they were being defended from. Orcs. Not the orcs that had attacked them on the way to Erebor, but they appeared to be a small pack of orcs at least. They had no wargs. That should have been a relief, but counting their numbers against the four of them, it did not look good.  

He didn’t need to know much about battle at all to know that this was not a good situation for them. They were at least an hour’s worth away from the elves, which meant they could not hope for aid from them. His heart quickened in his chest. Bilbo knew he was beginning to have a panic attack but he could not stop it. Thorin had pulled his sword from its sheath. The orcs were advancing on them slowly, though they didn’t need to take in much more as they had seen the numbers of their enemy.

The fight between the two guards and the orcs did not last long at all. To Bilbo’s relief, the guards took out most of the orcs, but there were a few left over that they could not best. He watched in horror as both guards were wounded severely and dropped to the ground.

They were advancing on Bilbo and Thorin.

“Ag zasasmaki rathkh-hund!” Thorin shoved Bilbo more behind him, lifting his sword up. Bilbo could feel his heart pounding harder and harder in his chest.

The three orcs did not appear at all dissuaded from attacking the two of them. Why would they be? Bilbo was small and had no weapon. It was obvious that Thorin was doing his best to protect the hobbit, which could very well mean he’d do anything to keep him safe. That was not a good thing to have been noticed. If Orcs were smart enough to be aware of that, Bilbo supposed, but he didn’t want to assume they were not.

Assumptions were never good.

Everything happened far too quickly for Bilbo to process much at all. All he knew was that there was an orc dead on the ground and that one of the others had struck Thorin in the shoulder. He’d stumbled back, clutching at the wound and growling angrily.

The orcs had turned their eyes toward Bilbo. Bilbo was completely defenseless and it wasn’t like he could pretend he had a trick up his sleeve. He simply didn’t. Thorin was at least on his feet, attempting to keep either of the orcs from reaching him. But the dwarf seemed to be becoming woozy and clumsier on his feet. Bilbo was quite concerned that he might fall over, which was not good, their circumstances considered.

With a sudden shock, he remembered the smaller sword companioned to the one Thorin wielded. Bilbo reached carefully towards Thorin, hoping that the dwarf would not try and stop him. For his luck, the dwarf was distracted in fending off the oncoming orcs. Bilbo managed to unsheathe the short sword and pull it free, hands trembling slightly. Frerin hadn’t had an opportunity to teach him anymore and since their arrival in Erebor, no one had thought to. Why would they? He was to be guarded at all times or with Thorin, who could easily wield a sword.

But then Thorin leaned heavily against him, his head lolling slightly in an effort to hold it up and Bilbo felt his resolve strengthened. Nothing horrible was going to happen to either of them. He wouldn’t allow it. True, he could not bargain with these orcs like he had with the creature, but he could ward them off.

“Back,” snapped Bilbo, shoving Thorin behind him. He heard the dwarf let out a confused, shocked noise. “Or I’ll kill you.”

He’d not properly handled a sword before, it was starkly different from the dagger as well. However, he’d seen how the dwarves carried their swords and how they swung them, he could imitate that. Hopefully, that was all that would be needed for the moment.

All he wanted to do was get himself and Thorin to the borders of Mirkwood, where the elves could protect them. And heal Thorin.

The orc hissed at him, coming closer. The blade, Bilbo hadn’t noticed until then, was glowing brightly and it sent a shiver down his back. Why was it glowing? As the orc drew near enough that Bilbo could have swung and hit him, it stopped as if paralyzed.

The other orc stared apprehensively at the glowing blade as well, then Thorin’s, who was slowly staggering up, and fled quickly from their sights.

Bilbo breathed out in relief. Thorin slumped against him, supporting his head against Bilbo’s shoulder and from there he could just barely see the frown overtaking the dwarf’s face. His eyes flicked to the sword in Bilbo’s hand, then back up to Bilbo’s face.

“That was extremely reckless,” gritted out Thorin. He was in obvious pain but the way he was acting did not make Bilbo feel sorry for him.

“Oh, was it? I saved our lives, thank you, and I would appreciate if you would be more appreciative about it!” snapped Bilbo, though he continued supporting Thorin.

The dwarf looked even more confused, opening his mouth to reply but he suddenly shut it. His eyes, which were much more focused than they had been earlier, had drifted over the bodies of the orc and the two guards. He swallowed.

“We cannot leave them here, we must…”

“Thorin,” said Bilbo carefully. “I cannot support you _and_ two other dwarves.”

Thorin did not reply, closing his eyes and bowing his head. For a moment, Bilbo feared that the dwarf had passed out from his wounds. Then, he heard the dwarf talking softly in Khuzdul and realized, very quickly, that he must have been uttering a prayer.

“Radm khama amnâs yud ni Itdendûm. I am sorry,” managed Thorin, though he kept his eyes closed. “I did not think… we must hurry to the edge of the woods. Before the orcs return.”

 

“Will they?”

Bilbo had already turned them around, supporting a good deal of Thorin’s weight as they made their way slowly toward the border. It would take much longer than the predicted hour to get there if he couldn’t get Thorin back on his feet.

“Aye,” said Thorin, his voice slurring slightly. “Aye, they… will return…”

“Oh, no, don’t you dare!”

Thorin, unfortunately, had gone partially unconscious. That was the only way Bilbo could think to describe it. He was struggling to walk, no longer speaking, and almost all his weight was on Bilbo. He had no idea how they were going to make it to Mirkwood, much less the next ten feet if this was how quickly Thorin was degrading.

It seemed like several hours before they were even close to the border. Bilbo wasn’t even sure they were in the right place anymore. The elves could very well be waiting elsewhere for them, or worse, had abandoned them to the orcs without realizing it.

He took in a deep breath to keep from crying. The tears that would have spilt would have been mainly from frustration, but he did not desire any tears right now. He had to be strong.

The sound of an orc cry rang in his ear and he stumbled slightly at the shock of hearing it. _No, no, no, no._

He turned around, accidentally dropping Thorin as he held up the sword in warning. The orcs were coming much quicker towards him than when they’d approached them before. His hands shook and not even the image of Thorn lying on the ground could help him this time.

Fate decided to be with him, at least in that moment, as an arrow came flying out of nowhere. The arrow lodged itself in the forehead of the orc and it fell down onto its knees first before falling onto the ground in a sprawl. The other orc had begun to back up but two arrows hit their mark and cast it down as well.

Bilbo let out a cry of relief, turning around and dropping onto his knees to check on Thorin. The dwarf was yet breathing, but it was shallow and his pulse far too quick. He looked up as Tauriel approached, dropping her bow to her side and kneeling swiftly by their side.

“Did the orcs hurt him?”

“Yes,” said Bilbo quickly. “Please, he needs h-help.”

Everything was coming to a head in Bilbo’s mind and he couldn’t help the slight stutter as his lip trembled.

He did not want Thorin to die.

Tauriel shifted her stance, hoisting Thorin up. Bilbo thought she might be attempting to carry the dwarf but she supported him over her shoulder. As she did so, a couple of elves appeared from the trees. He watched, recognizing a few of them. Despite their similarities, Bilbo could tell almost all of the elves apart. Some of them were not from the contingent that had led them through the forest when he had arrived.

As Tauriel stood, another elf approached. Bilbo met Legolas’s eyes and bowed his head slightly. Now that he knew who Legolas was, he was sure he had to at least show a sign of respect.

“Please,” Legolas said, shaking his head slightly before looking at Tauriel, “we must move swiftly.”

She nodded, then looked at Bilbo.

“Legolas and I can move faster on our own, with Prince Thorin. You will be fine to travel with the guard.”

“Wait,” Bilbo started, but before he could protest any, the two were off with Thorin. He fell back a step, his eyes wide as one of the elves approached.

They guided him into the forest, although not nearly as fast as Legolas and Tauriel had disappeared. He could feel the worry bubbling up. Bilbo hoped that it would not take them very long to arrive at the halls. The thought of being away from Thorin when he was in danger, and when Thorin was only in the presence of elves, he didn’t like it.

The Elven King’s halls were vast and strange. From what Bilbo could tell, they were carved from the wood of the forest and a river that continued on into the Lonely Lake ran underneath it. These halls were hardly reminiscent of the valley of Rivendell. Bilbo much preferred Lord Elrond, as well.

Thranduil had welcomed them happily, or Bilbo thought it might have been. He hadn’t paid too much attention, far too focused on following Tauriel as she took Thorin somewhere. She’d been a little reproachful about letting him into the healing room, but he hadn’t budged. The dwarf did not like elves and if he were to wake, Bilbo wanted to be there.

He followed quietly, peeking around Tauriel as she paused at a bed. There were a couple of elves working together. They seemed all very focused on Thorin’s shoulder. As they stood there, Tauriel turned to look at Bilbo.

“How are you faring?”

“Oh! I am fine.” Bilbo looked up at the elf. “I was lucky, and... and Thorin protected me.”

Tauriel nodded, turning her gaze back on Thorin and the healers for a moment. “He must have a great love for you.”

“Oh, I don’t… I mean, we are only married for an arrangement,” Bilbo said nervously. “I’m sure he just thinks of it as a duty.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said, watching as the healers finished and began moving Thorin. “Ah, they are taking him to where you will be staying. Hopefully he does not wake. Follow me, Bilbo. I promise you will be comfortable in these rooms.”

In fact, Thorin stayed unconscious even as they moved out of the healing room. Bilbo watched as the elves disappeared ahead of them fast. Tauriel walked at a leisurely pace. It bothered him slightly, but he didn’t desire to be rude to her or any of the other elves.

“He will be fine,” assured the captain as she led Bilbo into the room where he and Thorin would be staying. Thorin had already been laid on the bed. According to Tauriel, he would be asleep for a while longer. They did not want to wake him, as letting him wake on his own would reduce any shock. “Perhaps delirious at first, but that will fade quickly. You should get your rest as well. We will investigate where these orcs came from.”

Bilbo had also told her about the orc that had been killed and the dwarven guards. They’d already sent elves to retrieve them, taking them back into Erebor with the news of the attack and the safety of Prince Thorin and his husband.

Once she left, Bilbo sat on the bed and swallowed. All he could think about now was how much he wanted Thorin to wake up. He would apologize, for the statement about elves and for holding onto his anger for no good reason.

His heart hammered in his chest and after a long moment of contemplation, Bilbo laid down next to Thorin. His even breathing was a great comfort. Bilbo dared to lay his head on Thorin’s chest, where he could hear the much steadier heartbeat. He closed his eyes.

Thorin’s hand came up, touching his shoulder lightly and startling Bilbo. The hobbit would have pulled away but the dwarf kept his grip strong so that he could not.

“Bilbo?”

“Yes, yes, I’m right here, Thorin.”

He tilted his head up, smiling reassuringly at the prince. Thorin looked down at him, but he was not frowning. A fond smile danced across his lips. He did not ask where they were or what was going on. He continued staring at Bilbo, in what he could only describe as wonderment.

“Thorin-“

Bilbo found himself cut off, the soft press of lips upon his startling. He blinked in surprise at Thorin’s shut eyes and then closed his, returning the kiss softly. A part of him bloomed again, his hands moving to thread into Thorin’s hair.

The hobbit could not lie; he had been thinking about his first kiss with Thorin since it had happened. He hadn’t stopped. It had been a constant, niggling thought at the back of his mind. He’d been denying his feelings about it for the sake of his anger. Now, though, he could not find any anger in himself and he could hardly protest another kiss between them.

Even if, he realized as Thorin deepened the kiss with a slip of his tongue, it was likely because Thorin was not fully at his wits.

That thought cast doubt upon their kiss, causing him to pull away before Thorin could deepen the kiss more or take anything between them further. The dwarf looked at him in confusion, but there was not a trace of hurt on his face. Bilbo wanted to make sure Thorin didn’t think wrong.

“It’s... I don’t want to, here,” intercepted Bilbo quickly.

Thorin glanced about, his eyebrows pulling together as he studied the room they were in. It seemed to dawn him, his face changing ever slightly, that they were not in a room in Erebor. Bilbo worried it would completely change the dwarf’s actions but he merely looked understandingly at his husband.

“I understand. You would want our bed, not a bed in the elven halls. I feel the same.”

The dwarf laid his hand over Bilbo’s, smiling and looking far too pleased at the thought. He didn’t have the heart to tell the dwarf that he wasn’t sure he wanted to do it at all, much less when Thorin did not have his right mind.

Instead, Bilbo smiled and turned his hand over, catching Thorin’s fingers and intertwining them. The prince looked pleased, if a bit flustered by their hand-holding. Bilbo had not fully grasped the concept of affection amongst dwarves, but they appeared even more private about it than hobbits. At least it appeared that private, if hand-holding embarrassed Thorin even when they were alone.

“I think you should sleep.”

“I only woke up,” said Thorin, a quizzical look on his face.

“It’s much later than you think and you… you need sleep, hm?” Bilbo pushed at him gently, though he didn’t need much force at all as Thorin laid down immediately.

“You will be here?”

“Yes, right here, I’ll sleep too, will that make you happy?”

If the pleased look on the dwarf’s face was any indication, it did.

 

Their two days spent in the elven kingdom were less than pleasant. In comparison with Rivendell, Mirkwood was horrid. That was rather harsh, Bilbo corrected himself. It was not horrid, but if he never had to visit again, he’d be happy.

He quite liked a few of the elves. Tauriel, the Captain, was very nice and even Thorin did not seem to mind her. He’d seen Legolas a few times but he always seemed preoccupied with one task or another. The halls themselves were quite nice.

It was the Lord of Mirkwood that irked Bilbo. He’d thought Thorin unreasonable for his dislike of elves. But he could certainly give the prince slack if this was who he had to deal with.

Particularly, as Bilbo helped Thorin to the dinner the night before they were to leave, whenever the elf lord spoke, it felt as though he was attempting to piss of Thorin. It didn’t work as much as the elf wanted, or Bilbo thought. Since their kiss, and his healing, Thorin seemed calmed immeasurably.

Somehow, he managed to hold his tongue. Thranduil gazed at both of them as Bilbo made sure Thorin was sat comfortably.

“I am to understand that you were unable to fend off a pack of orcs?” Thranduil asked, watching them curiously. Next to him, Legolas sighed.

“We were ambushed,” Thorin said, his tone polite. “Had we known there was orc activity in the area, we would have been more cautious.”

Thranduil pressed his lips together. “Perhaps if you were willing to communicate with us, we would be able to keep a sharper eye on all borders.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Bilbo noticed Thorin’s hand tightening on his cup but he did not say anything. A moment passed and then Thorin inclined his head.

“I admit it would be beneficial if we were to treaty together.”

The hall grew quiet and Bilbo looked around curiously. All the elves were either looking at Thorin or Thranduil. Legolas and Tauriel were both glancing in between the two. Thranduil’s eyes were widened and the smug expression on his face had fallen.

“That is…” the elf cleared his throat, “that is a new perspective from you, Prince Thorin.”

Thorin looked away from Thranduil, smiling as he directed his attention (and everyone else’s) onto Bilbo.

“I find that my eyes have been opened,” he looked back at Thranduil, although all the other elves were focused on Bilbo now, “I believe this short visit would be a perfect time to lay out a draft of a treaty.”

The rest of the dinner passed by uneventfully. Bilbo was more than happy to flee back to their temporary room. All the attention from the elves had been too much. He did not like it at all.  Bilbo did not scold Thorin for his outbursts when they reached the room, though he could have said much as they were all in Khuzdul, far too complex for him to understand. They did not mean much to Bilbo, though he thought he had definitely heard the elf’s name frequently. At the least, Thorin had adopted some of Bilbo’s cordial attitude towards the elves despite the tension between the two races.

Thorin had even been courteous as they had left, promising better relations and trade between the two kingdoms. He had preened noticeably when Bilbo had complimented him later that night. It had been quite ridiculous.

They were back in Erebor shortly. The trip back had been partially with Tauriel and several elf guards, then a small group of dwarven guards. He had honestly never been happier to see so many dwarves in one place. His fondness for them had certainly grown in the absence of any but Thorin and the company of the elves. Besides, he felt safe among them. They might be slightly bigger than him but they were closer to the right size and kinder than the elves. He liked them.

There had been mourning for the two guards lost to the orcs. The report of the orc attack had drawn Thráin’s face tighter. He’d had Oin, the royal healer, check on the wound before he’d let Thorin and Bilbo go back to their rooms. Bilbo fidgeted nervously as they sat in Oin’s office. He’d been inspecting Thorin’s shoulder for several minutes. Mostly, he had not said anything at all. It made Bilbo far more nervous than he felt he should be. Thorin, on the other hand, did not seem disturbed by the lack of comment.

“It looks fine,” approved Oin, stepping back and giving Bilbo a once over. Bilbo hadn’t sustained a scratch. “The elves are fine healers, you must admit.”

“If that’s all,” said Bilbo, smiling slightly. “I think Thorin and I would both like to retire for a while.”

Thorin inclined his head in agreement, standing up and pulling his shirt back over his head. Bilbo had averted his eyes for most of the check-up, but he caught the sight of Thorin’s belly and the fur there. His face might have suddenly felt a little hot but he ignored it in favor of following his husband back to their rooms.

The dwarf had quickly adapted the habit of taking his boots off once they were in the rooms, though it was clear he didn’t like how cold the stone felt underfoot. There’d been talk of installing more rugs in their rooms. Bilbo could only smile fondly as he watched the dwarf tiptoe quickly across the stone.

Thorin caught his smile as he glanced back at him.

“Oh, you think that’s funny? I wouldn’t have to do this if you weren’t insistent about the boots.” His tone was playful and Bilbo grinned wider.

“Come now, it’s a mere accommodation for-” he yelped mid-sentence, as he found himself lifted up into the air by his husband. “ _Thorin!_ ”

“What?” His dwarf chuckled, grinning up at Bilbo as he walked them into the bedroom. “Ahh, that is better!”

Swiftly, he set the hobbit down the bed and stood in front of him. A fond smile had worked its way onto his lips and Bilbo rolled his eyes slightly in response.

“Silly dwarf,” said Bilbo, the affection spilling out suddenly. It filled the room, as though he had done more than call his dwarf husband silly. What was that about?

Thorin stared back in surprise, the unexpected pet name tripping him up. Well, Bilbo could hardly blame him. He had no idea what to say himself. He had no idea where it had even come from. And Thorin was looking at him so oddly.

It happened all rather quickly. He’d reached up, not fully thinking of his actions. He had no explanation for it, but he wanted to touch Thorin’s face. His hand cupped the dwarf’s cheek. At the same time, Thorin leaned forward and the contact of Bilbo’s hand upon his cheek startled the both of them. It startled Thorin enough that he lost his balance. They’d ended up in a heap on the bed.  

He almost wanted to laugh, but the dwarf was a little too heavy for Bilbo to support or breathe with all his weight on top. Luckily, Thorin seemed to realize that. He propped himself up, looking down at Bilbo. His hair curtained the two of them, blocking out the view of the rest of the room.

Bilbo’s heart picked up the pace. He did not appreciate this. He feared Thorin might hear how fast his heart beat.

Would he know?

True, they had shared a kiss but Thorin had not been in his right mind at the time and Bilbo feared the worst from that situation: that they would be at odds with each other and unable to cope from it. What if Thorin had been truly addled at the time? Perhaps he did not desire to kiss Bilbo or think of him in any manner. Although it seemed silly, he couldn’t help but wonder. They were in an awkward position, physically and figuratively.

Though, since they had returned, Bilbo found that Thorin had begun talking to him again. Bilbo himself no longer felt the need to give Thorin a cold shoulder. He always showed minor displays of affection around others, light shoulder touches were quite common, and he was no as averse to hand-holding in private as he had been.

Even though they’d only been back a mere few hours, he could feel and see the shift between them. Part of Bilbo was grateful. He did not want a marriage that held no love. He had never felt certain they would love each other, but he had hoped they might at least be friends of some sort then. They’d formed a friendship already, though, and it seemed to be resurfacing.

In fact, it seemed to becoming more than that. If the blush spreading across his cheeks and nose, reflected on Thorin’s face was anything to go by.

Thorin sat back, clearing his throat awkwardly and looking everywhere but at Bilbo. He shifted up, faking a yawn for the sake of both of their dignity. They, Bilbo had at least realized, had no idea how to navigate this part of their relationship.

It would be, Bilbo decided, something for the morning or another day.  

“We should sleep,” he declared. Thorin nodded, leaving Bilbo to change as he disappeared into the bathroom.

Bilbo found one of his nightshirts the most comfortable to wear. Despite Dori having provided several sets of night clothes, he preferred the ones that reminded him of home. He would have a hard time not missing the Shire. Yet, his life here was not so bad.

The door from the bathroom opened again and Thorin smiled at him.

Yes, it wasn’t so bad at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul used:   
> Ag zasasmaki rathkh-hund - You will taste my knuckle soon (You're going to get a beating soon)   
> Radm khama amnâs yud ni Itdendûm - The reward for loyalty is a place in the Hall of Waiting
> 
> aaaa I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! It's a little shorter than the others, but the next one will be longer. The rest of this fic is just these two being cute and realizing their feelings for each other. I was looking over the remaining of the fic and there's only enough content left for one more chapter! So I will post that next week! 
> 
> And there is a sequel fic I will be writing and posting, possibly next month. I have exams in two weeks so there will be a definite break between the last chapter and the beginning of the next fic.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is partially mature. If you don't wanna read that particular part, it begins at "His skin was flushed slightly when the dwarf looked up to meet his eyes." and you can pick back up at "It had been a few weeks since Bilbo and Thorin had spent their first night together" without really losing too much of the story itself. It's pretty mild stuff, though!

Bilbo hadn’t spent too much time in the presence of the entire royal family, but he found himself sitting between Thorin and Frerin the morning after he and Thorin had come back. Thráin sat at the head of the table, with Lady Fris to his left, Thorin to his right. Dís sat across from her brothers, her husband next to her and then their two sons, Fíli and Kíli, sat across from each other with Kíli next to Frerin. Breakfast had begun peacefully. Bilbo paid attention to the conversation between Thorin and his father. Most of it was lost on him, however. He thought they might be talking about mining or gemstones, something of that ilk.

Much of the Khuzdul he did not understand. And his focus was being torn away from them.

The youngest of the Durins were obviously doing something they shouldn’t. Bilbo knew the look upon their faces quite well. He had exchanged it far too many times with his cousins closer to his age as a faunt. Whatever they were plotting would likely ruin breakfast. He did not like that prospect.

Bilbo only wanted to enjoy his breakfast and then continue adjusting to Erebor, now that he was able to go where he pleased. Thorin had even offered to show him other places around the kingdom, so long as they were together. That was a bit difficult, as his husband was almost always busy.

They’d had time alone before but he could see already that it would be scarce for a few weeks.

He startled when a spoonful of eggs flew across the table, in front of him, and smacked into Thorin’s face. The eggs slid slowly down their uncle’s face. Bilbo watched as Thorin’s face started turning red.

“Boys!” scolded Thorin.

Bilbo tried to keep his laughter from bubbling over. It would only encourage them and he didn’t want to possibly upset Thorin more. Beside him, Frerin burst into loud laughter after a second passed. Thorin’s eyes flicked toward him and his mouth turned down into a scowl.

Thráin and Fris had both been keeping straight, strict faces but at the sound of their youngest’s laughter, they both broke into grins.

Thorin’s eyes turned onto his sister and her husband.

“You cannot approve of this behavior, Dís!”

“Oh, Thorin,” sighed his sister, a smile tugging on her lips as well. Víli was already laughing, his shoulders moving up and down, though he made no sound. “They’re just playing and it’s not that big of a deal!”

He scowled more, getting up and stomping out of the dining room before anyone could say anything more. Bilbo blinked and looked back at the rest of the family. None of them seemed too shocked. In fact, they were already going back to eating their breakfast.

Bilbo excused himself, hurrying after Thorin. He worried slightly that he might have waited too long and would be unable to find the dwarf. For his luck. Thorin had stopped only a little way from the doors into the dining room.

He turned at the sound of Bilbo’s feet, then looked down at his own.

“Come now,” said Bilbo, offering a small smile. “It wasn’t too bad -- just a few eggs.”

“I’ll have to redo all my braids,” grumbled Thorin, his hands coming up to his beard. Most of the egg had landed there, though Bilbo noticed that there was some in his hair as well.

“Oh.”

They stood in silence for a long moment before Thorin shook his head and cleared his throat.

“I have a meeting with my father later, I should wash my hair and redo my braids before, I need to go do that.”

“I could help?” offered Bilbo.

“You…” Thorin looked extremely conflicted. His eyes searched Bilbo’s face. The offer seemed to confuse him greatly. An unfamiliar look flitted quickly across his face, one that the hobbit was unable to describe. Then his face became stern. “You do not know how to do these braids. I greatly appreciate the offer but I, ah, perhaps another time.”

“Well, er, alright,” murmured Bilbo in response, watching as the dwarf strode quickly into their rooms without a look back.

He almost felt as though he had almost, somehow offended his husband.

With a sigh, Bilbo walked back into the dining room. In the short space of time he’d been gone, everyone but Dís had cleared out. It seemed that Fíli and Kíli had continued throwing their breakfast about. The dining room was a mess. When he walked in, she looked up and beamed at him.

“How is he?”

“Oh, Thorin? He’s… I think he’s fine. Just has to wash his hair, there’s a meeting.” Bilbo watched her for a moment, noting the many similar braids in her hair for the first time. “Actually, I need to ask you something.”

 

Months had passed since he had married Bilbo and Thorin could not begin to properly describe the relationship between the two of them. It was certainly a good one, shifting far from the beginning of their marriage. He felt close to his husband. They shared many things, always spending time in the evening together.

It felt so right.

However, there’d been something bothering him for a while now. He wasn’t quite sure when it had started, but Bilbo had been acting quite odd.

He spent much of his time with Dís and Frerin, interchangeably. It was not the time spent with his sister that bothered Thorin, but the time spent with his brother. Of the two of them, Frerin had always been far more attractive and charming by dwarf standards. He could hardly compete. He had never wanted to, either.

However, his brother’s friendship and relationship with Bilbo worried him. What if there was something more there? After all, they’d had an entire journey to get to know each other. People always grew much closer to each other on journeys,

Though, there was no evidence that anything had transpired between them. Bilbo would not say why he spent so much time with Thorin’s siblings, though, and that bothered him just as much. It wouldn’t have been suspicious if Bilbo said why. He’d been strangely tight-mouthed about it.

That was the main reason that when Thorin stepped into their rooms in the later afternoon, after a rather stressful meeting, he did not expect Bilbo to be in their rooms. As far as he could tell, and he even checked the study, he was not.

With a rather disappointed sigh, the dwarf left to go take a bath. It would do him some good and help ease out a bit of his stress. He took a rather long one, enjoying the heat of the water and the subsequent steam from it.

Surely by the time he left the bath his fingers and toes were wrinkled, but he did not check. He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist and nabbed another to rub dry his hair. Thorin had his thoughts on his more comfortable bed clothes. Bilbo would hopefully not complain that Thorin was already dressed for bed when he came back.

Thorin pushed opened the door with his shoulder, looking up as he entered.

There, on their bed, sat Bilbo. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of Thorin. The dwarf felt his cheeks warm and he held the towel tighter. He’d been intending to drop it a second later but that would be rather inappropriate.

“Ah, I did not... expect you to be here,” admitted Thorin, not daring to meet Bilbo’s eyes.

“Oh, yes, I... I apologize. Shall I close my eyes?”

“If you would not mind…”

Bilbo gave him a strange look before shutting his eyes tightly. Thorin quickly made his way over to the wardrobe, pulling out his bedclothes and pulling his pants and bottoms on quickly. For the time being, he set the shirt aside. He had to braid his hair yet and he did not feel like dealing with the struggle of a shirt at the moment.

“You can open your eyes,” he said softly.

When Bilbo did, he almost immediately averted them and stared thoughtfully at the furs covering their bed. “What, ah, what are you doing? Do you need to braid your hair?”

Thorin thought that was a rather specific question. He eyed Bilbo carefully.

“Aye, I do.”

“Oh,” said Bilbo, quickly looking at Thorin. His face was a little flushed. “Let me help.”

“Bilbo, I’ve told you-”

“I know how to do it now, I’ve been practicing, I mean…” he looked quite sheepish as he continued on speaking. “That is, I asked Dís and Frerin for their help. I’ve been practicing what they taught me. I can only do the marriage braids and your house braids, but if you would please. Let me.”

Thorin stared at him, his expression softening.

“Do you know what the significance of doing so is?”

“Of course I do,” murmured Bilbo before beckoning Thorin. “Now come here and let me.”

Thorin smiled a little and moved to sit in front of Bilbo, gazing softly at him. The dwarf had not toweled his hair fully dry, it dripped down his back and Bilbo huffed. He took the towel and went to the task of toweling his hair. Thorin merely chuckled.

“You do not need to dry it all the way, and you really should not. Leave it at least a bit damp, aye?

Bilbo rolled his eyes.

Dís had mentioned that it would be better if he did the braids while the hair was damp, especially after a bath. That seemed odd to him but Frerin had agreed. It helped them set better and it was easier than dealing with wet hair or dry hair. He didn’t really personally understand that himself but it seemed to be a dwarf-specific act.

He murmured quietly under his breath as he started on the house braid first. These could be braided by your spouse or by a family member, though no one else was allowed to do them, as they did not belong to the house in question. You were not allowed to know or learn the braid’s particular style otherwise. His insides fluttered at the thought of the marriage braid. It was only allowed to be braided by your spouse or yourself. No one else, and there was zero exception, was allowed to braid it.

Thorin’s hand brushed his and Bilbo startled slightly, his eyes flicking to the soft expression on his husband’s face. He was holding one of the clasps for his braids for Bilbo to take.

As he finished the house braid, Bilbo paused and looked Thorin in the face. The dwarf kept staring back at him, not breaking their eye contact like he might have in the past.

“It’s alright if I...?”

“Of course it is,” murmured Thorin.

If his hands trembled slightly, Bilbo did not let Thorin know beyond the possibility of the dwarf feeling it as he separated the hair of the braid. He could hardly think about how Thorin might be looking at him. The expression he’d glimpsed only a moment ago was far more than he’d been prepared for.

Bilbo worried slightly that he might mess the braid up from the way his hands trembled. Goodness, he did not want that to happen. He needed to focus on the braid, not on what it meant by him doing it. By the time he had actually completed the braid, his hands had at least stopped trembling as much as they had been. There was a slight tremor yet, but it was not noticeable enough. He hoped.

Thorin’s hand covered Bilbo’s, watching him carefully.

“Are you alright?”

“I am... I am,” assured Bilbo. “Let me finish the braid? I’ll be done after that.”

Thorin did not let go off his hand but he offered the bead up and Bilbo took it with his free hand. It was a little difficult for him to finish the braid with one hand but he did. Thorin’s hand tightened around his.

“May I put your marriage braid in?”

His voice was quiet enough that Bilbo would have missed it if it were not for how close they were. He looked up, blinking in surprise. Thorin’s heart did a somersault in his chest. It was quite bold of him to ask. Unlike dwarves, hobbits did not need to wear the marriage braids. As it was not their tradition, no one had pressured Bilbo to do it simply because he’d married the prince. He was a hobbit, not a dwarf. They had that understanding.

The thought of Bilbo wearing their marriage braid had Thorin nearly blushing.

“I would like that,” said Bilbo after a moment, smiling encouragingly at him.

Thorin swallowed and began braiding immediately. His hands worked much quicker than Bilbo’s, from years and years of braiding his own hair. Even the marriage braid felt natural in his hands, after only a few months of putting it in his own hair.

When his thoughts turned towards the fact that he might always have Bilbo braid his hair, like this, it caused him to falter slightly.

Bilbo noticed, turning his eyes toward Thorin in question. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, his face heating up more.

After a few more moments, Thorin finished the braid. He was suddenly glad that he had kept the beads he’d made for Bilbo instead of throwing them out in a fit like he had thought to do in the first few weeks of their marriage. He retrieved one, smiling to himself as Bilbo looked curiously at it, and tied the braid off with it.

“There,” said Thorin softly. “There we are.”

Bilbo looked up at him, smiling shyly. The marriage braid sat comfortably behind his left ear. The entire image itself, Bilbo with their marriage braid and sitting in their bed before him, stole Thorin’s breath for a second.

How had he ever doubted the feelings he had toward Bilbo? He could not deny them now.

He hadn’t noticed, then, that the hobbit’s eyes had drifted down over his chest. In fact, he’d quite forgotten that he had not put his shirt on. This was the first time Bilbo had seen his chest. The multitude of scars probably shocked him. Thorin had to assume, at least, that he had not seen many scars before now.

One of Bilbo’s hands, likely not of his own violation, had moved and brushed his fingers gently against the puckered skin of one of the scars. The story behind it came instantly to his mind before he could think too much about it.

“Frerin,” said Thorin sharply, startling Bilbo from the touch. He withdrew his hand as if he had been scalded.

 

“It was Frerin,” continued the dwarf, looking down at the scar himself. “We are not... very skilled with the bow, it is not a well-tuned dwarf weapon. But he insisted upon learning. My mother refused any more lessons after he accidentally hit me with an arrow, though. I can’t say I am sorry he did not keep learning. Though, my nephew, Kíli, is much more skilled…”

Bilbo had smiled a little, his eyes jumping down to other along Thorin’s chest. The largest he had was one that curved around his side and ended on his back. The hobbit kept glancing back at it, though he would then focus his attention on another scar on his chest instead.

“It was…” Thorin paused and then looked down. “When I was younger, we had a great battle between our people and the orcs. I did not wish for Frerin to fight with us, but we needed all the help we could get at the time. I do not think he would have survived if I had not protected him.”

A quiet fell between them for a long moment before Bilbo touched the scar lightly, tracing its path with his fingers. Thorin shivered at the contact, settling his hands on the hobbit’s hips. Bilbo shifted slightly, moving more into Thorin’s lap.

When he brought his lips to Thorin’s most recent scar, the one from when they’d been attacked by the orcs outside of Mirkwood, it startled him greatly. His hands tightened on Bilbo’s hips, before moving up to his waist.

His fingers slid up under Bilbo’s shirt, pausing as the hobbit sucked in a breath.

“Is this…?”

“Yes,” breathed Bilbo against Thorin’s shoulder but did not move his head from where he now rested it.

A moment later, Thorin had pushed his hands further up along Bilbo’s sides. He was careful to not be too light with his touches or risk tickling the hobbit in a moment that he very much did not wish to turn into giggles. Bilbo’s hand had tightened on his other shoulder. As he worked his hands up, he brought the shirt up with him.

His hands paused as he came to Bilbo’s armpits. This is where things would go one way or another. They could continue on in this manner or, or not. He didn’t know what exactly he wanted to happen, but more importantly, it mattered what Bilbo wanted too.

Lost in his inner debate, he didn’t notice Bilbo sit back and hold his arms up. He did, however, hear his husband’s voice clearly.

“Well? Don’t you want to be on even footing?”

Thorin breathed in sharply and then pushed Bilbo’s shirt up and over his head and arms, until he could drop it onto the floor beside the bed. The hobbit gave him a disapproving look. Thorin ignored it. His eyes were too busy roaming over Bilbo’s chest.

It was absolutely clear, but for a smattering of hair a shade darker than the hair on top of his head. There were no scars visible and Thorin knew that he did not an actual look at the back of Bilbo’s back to see the same. Besides that, he had freckles sprinkled lightly across his shoulders.

His skin was flushed slightly when the dwarf looked up to meet his eyes.

“Goodness, you do not need to look at me like _that_ ,” mumbled Bilbo.

But how could he not? The braid shifted behind Bilbo’s ear as he ducked his head down.

“I will not let any harm come to you,” said Thorin softly. The statement caused Bilbo to look back up immediately and blink rapidly.

He opened his mouth, intending to say something but Thorin did not let him. He feared that they might delve into something deeper and he could not handle that tonight. It was a conversation for another night, a different night.

Tonight, he intended, tonight would be for them. If it carried out that way, he hoped greatly that it would.

The kiss had taken Bilbo by surprise but he responded after a moment, kissing back fiercely. Thorin thought briefly about their last kiss, blurred by his lack of full consciousness. He’d been so desperate for anything between them. Bilbo had been there when he’d managed a wink of awareness, leaning against him. He hadn’t known fully what he was doing but he had not regretted it. Besides, Bilbo had kissed him back.

Bilbo was kissing him back in this moment.

Despite both of them only bare from the waist up, the tentative grind of Bilbo’s hips against his stole Thorin’s breath right from his lungs. While he had imagined this once or twice, kissing Bilbo and beyond that, the feeling of the fantasy could not begin to compare to how it truly felt.

One of his hands drifted lower and settled on the curve of Bilbo’s backside. His hips rose slightly in response before he rolled them harder against Thorin. Thorin could not help the upward buck of his hips.

Bilbo’s hand scrambled against his shoulders as the movement of his hips grew unsteady.

“Thorin,” gasped Bilbo. “Thorin, oh, I-I... please, touch me.”

With a soft groan, relieved at the permission to do something, Thorin slipped his hand into Bilbo’s breeches and then pushed into his pants. Bilbo’s back arched as Thorin’s fingers brushed lightly against his cock.

His hand encircled the half-hard cock, which was already beginning to harden under his touch. He had not touched anyone but himself and the difference between the two of them was astounding. Incredible. Bilbo was a good deal smaller, though that likely had to do with his natural size compared to a dwarf. His skin even felt smoother as he rubbed his thumb repeatedly over the head of Bilbo’s cock.

Over him, as their positions has shifted so that Bilbo practically sat on top of him, the hobbit breathed in shakily and then whimpered as he thrust slightly into Thorin’s hand. Thorin took that as a cue and began stroking Bilbo slowly, speeding up every so often.

“Oh, oh, yes…”

Thorin watched him with hooded eyes. Everything about Bilbo was beautiful and even more so as he moaned over the dwarf. He could not describe the way he felt. There had never been such a feeling of want inside of him before.

His heart hammered as Bilbo locked eyes with him, his shoulders trembling. Bilbo had propped himself up with one hand, likely in order to keep himself from falling over and he had not noticed until he could follow the tremor from his shoulders all the way down his arm.

“T-thorin, oh!”

Bilbo gasped and let out a surprised yelp as Thorin rolled them onto their sides. It was perhaps not the most comfortable position they could be in but it was certainly better than how they’d been moments ago. Bilbo was not trembling to hold his weight up anymore, at least. Though as Thorin continued stroking him, he tremored harder from that.

It sent bolts of pleasure down Thorin’s spine.

“What, oh _gods,_ w-what about you…?”

He’d barely thought of himself, he would have told Bilbo, but the hobbit had grown incoherent again as Thorin twisted his wrist. That had a wonderful effect of causing Bilbo to squirm and scramble to hold onto Thorin or the bed or anything.

Somehow, though, Bilbo managed to overtake the feeling of pleasure Thorin was attempting. His hands were shaking as he reached and shoved at Thorin’s breeches until they were halfway down. As he went for his pants next, he spasmed for a moment and moaned deeply.

“If you would, ah, just give me a moment, this would be quite better for b-both of us,” he panted.

Thorin relented, stopping his hand though he did not let go. That seemed enough for Bilbo, who shoved Thorin’s pants down rather rudely.

He was going to protest but then the hobbit was doing the same to himself. His hand bumped lightly against Thorin’s before he looked up at him.

“Well?”

Thorin’s mouth had gone dry. The sight of his husband’s cock, hard and flushed and curved onto his stomach, had caught him completely off guard. Bilbo did not seem to be giving his more than one glance. He might have been upset about it but obviously, Bilbo was expecting something from him.

“What? I...” He was plainly confused about what Bilbo wanted to do now.

They were not prepared for much more than this and he was not willing to potentially ruin the mood for a break to retrieve what they needed.

Bilbo’s expression had softened.

“Have you never done this?”

“Ah… no.” Thorin studied his husband’s face then shook his head.

“Oh, _oh_ ,” sighed Bilbo, though he looked rather pleased instead of disappointed. “Come here, closer.”

When Thorin did scoot himself up against Bilbo, their cocks bumped together and he shivered. Bilbo did as well, though he reached down and wrapped his hand around both of their cocks. Rather he tried.

He doubted Bilbo could wrap one hand around Thorin’s cock, much less the combined girth of theirs. He slid his own hand down and covered Bilbo’s, his hand comfortably encompassing the both of them.

“This?” he asked hoarsely. Bilbo nodded, apparently having lost the ability or concentration to speak.

He began stroking Bilbo again, this time himself as well. At first, the movement was odd but quickly, he fell into the familiarity of his own hand.

Moreover, the press of Bilbo’s cock against his heightened the pleasure. He couldn’t contain himself from thrusting into his hand and against Bilbo’s erection. Beside him, the hobbit moaned and thrusted back against him. They fell into a comfortable rhythm, rutting against each other shamelessly. This was not what Thorin had thought would be their first encounter but he could not complain. Bilbo’s gasps and moans were scattered with his name.

Thorin could feel himself nearing his end, the pressure building and his movements becoming jerky and disjointed. Bilbo’s breathing had grown heavier and he could feel the trembling starting up anew. They were both so close and Thorin closed the gap between them with a messy kiss.

This sent Bilbo over the edge. He moaned loudly against Thorin’s lips, shaking hard as he came over Thorin’s hand. The feeling and sounds of Bilbo’s climax managed to send Thorin soaring over the edge as well.

When he finally came down, Bilbo had sprawled out on the bed. His eyes were closed and he was panting heavily, by how fast his chest was moving up and down. Thorin closed his for a moment, thinking about what had just happened. He grinned and then felt the embarrassment clambering up his throat.

It was not wrong of them at all. But he had... it had happened quickly, escalating from light touches into _that_.

Bilbo had turned his head then, looking curiously at Thorin.

“Is everything alright?”

“Ah,” started Thorin, opening his eyes and looking at Bilbo. “I am fine, that was just…”

“Mhm... it was quite good; I should like to think. Did you like it?”

He looked fairly nervous and Thorin could not imagine why. What they had just done, what Bilbo had just done, he couldn’t imagine anything better than that. He knew, of course as he was not an idiot, that there was far more than that. However, he just couldn’t think or imagine the pleasure beyond what he’d experienced only a few minutes ago.

“Did I like it?” breathed Thorin, staring at him incredulously.

Bilbo’s brows drew together, and the nervous look on his face grew. The dwarf scrambled to say more before his husband thought otherwise about how he felt.

“Oh, I liked it more than anything else!”

His exclamation had apparently embarrassed Bilbo quite thoroughly as he covered his face. Though, the dwarf could see that his ears were reddening. He couldn’t quite peg what he’d said that had done that.

“Bilbo?”

“Goodness, Thorin,” mumbled the hobbit. “Please don’t tell me that was your first time?”

“I’ve touched myself before,” responded Thorin, feeling his confusion grow.

“That is...” groaned Bilbo, dropping his hands and staring at Thorin for a long minute. “I am... that is fine information to know, but I meant, have you ever been with anybody else?”

“Of course not!”

Thorin felt scandalous at the suggestion of such a thing. How could he have? Besides, he was sure Bibo was his One, if he did have one at all. He could never be sure but the feeling and his love for Bilbo had to be quite close. In any case, he loved Bilbo as he loved no other.

Bilbo’s face changed.

“Oh, that’s not... I suppose that isn’t something dwarves do, is it?”

“It is not. Do… hobbits do that?”

“Well, yes, but,” Bilbo’s hand found his and squeezed. He remembered that their hands needed to be washed soon. “I wouldn’t worry about anything. I never did more than what we just did. We’re both in uncharted territory now. Hm?”

“I’m...” swallowed Thorin. “I am not sure I am quite ready for anything more yet.”

“Oh,” smiled Bilbo and quickly pressed a kiss to Thorin’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We don’t have to do anything else, if you do not want to. You only need to tell me either way.”

Then, Bilbo stood up and stretched. Thorin’s eyes followed his husband’s naked body across their room. The hobbit glanced over his shoulder, grinning.

“I’ll bring you a washcloth, shall I?”

Thorin flushed as Bilbo left the room quickly to their bathing room.

 

It had been a few weeks since Bilbo and Thorin had spent their first night together. They’d settled well into their married life. There were occasional nights of intimacy, but it was an uncommon occurrence. Thorin’s duties as prince and heir of Erebor had become more intense ever since they had been married, at least according to the dwarf. Apparently, his father was fearing his end was near and Thorin needed to learn quicker than he had before.

Besides that, Bilbo had been working hard at learning Khuzdul in a timely manner. It was not an easy language and while he memorized certain phrases, it was not as good as actually knowing how to speak the language.

He’d been walking and talking with Bafarr and Ori, on their way to the library. She’d been reassigned to guarding him post-wedding. They didn’t think there was much reason for it, but he supposed the dwarves did feel better if he had someone watching over him. Bilbo had missed her presence, in any case.

“As I was saying,” continued the dwarf guard. “I think it would be better if you learned the other dwarf language.”

“I’ve been told it’s harder!”

“It really isn’t that much harder,” added Ori, clutching the book to his chest tighter. “I mean; it is if you don’t already know Khuzdul. Which is why he’s learning that first.”

“If you just did both, like any dwarf child…”

Bafarr rolled her eyes and then paused as her younger brother came running up to them.

“What is it?”

“For his highness,” bowed the young dwarf before standing up and turning his attention fully onto Bilbo. “His Majesty King Thráin has called for you. He would you like in the council room immediately. I will escort you.”

“Ah, well,” stuttered Bilbo. He couldn’t really argue with an order from Thráin. “Okay. What about Bafarr?”

“She may come as well, I should think that the King would like to see her with you. It was his order if I remember.”

Bafarr rolled her eyes while Bilbo glanced at Ori. The dwarf simply smiled reassuringly at his friend.

“I’ll see you later? If you’re not pulled into something all day.”

“Of course,” agreed Bilbo before following the two dwarves to the council room.

He was glad it was not too far away from where they were at the moment. Were they in a meeting right now? He couldn’t recall Thorin’s schedule for the afternoon.

As they entered the council room, Bilbo immediately searched the room for Thorin. There he was, sitting next to his father and looking extremely bored with everything. When he met Bilbo’s eyes though, the dwarf brightened up instantly. You wouldn’t have guessed that he wanted to be anywhere else.

For a moment, he wondered why the dwarf had looked like he was about to fall asleep. Then, he saw the grouping of elves sitting on the other side of the council table. Balin smiled tightly at Bilbo, a hint of relief in his eyes.

“Ah, here he is.”

Thráin stood up, holding out an arm and beckoning Bilbo over to his side. The hobbit approached slowly, eyes on Thorin before moving to the elves and offering a warm smile. He spotted Tauriel among them and felt slight relief. She was not so bad.

“I was about to tell the elves from Mirkwood about you, Bilbo. This is Bilbo Baggins, my eldest son’s husband. He comes from the Shire. I believe a few of you may know him, as he traveled through your land on his way here. He seems to... Let me say, I believe that he might be a good ambassador between our people.”

Bilbo opened his mouth in surprise but Thráin continued talking before he could say anything else.

“He is not an elf and he is not a dwarf, I am sure you can understand my point. Despite being married to my son; he will certainly be less biased than a dwarf. Do you not agree?”

There were murmurs between the elves before one of them, though tit was not Tauriel, gave an affirmation.

“Wonderful! Then, from now on, any meeting between dwarves and elves shall be handled by my advisor Balin and ambassador Bilbo.”

The title sounded strange but as he looked at the elves, Bilbo felt a small amount of excitement. He would have a duty that contributed to the good of Erebor’s future and he quite liked the elves to spend time with them.

However, Thráin’s words seemed to be a dismissal as the elves slowly left the room. Tauriel gave him a goodbye wave as she left. Thráin walked away, Balin and the rest of the council following him.

Thorin lingered, smiling softly as he came up to Bilbo’s side.

“Are you happy?”

“Well,” murmured Bilbo, taking Thorin’s offered hand. “I can’t say it’s a bad thing. I can stand the elves more than you, after all.”

“It was on my suggestion,” said the dwarf, bringing Bilbo’s hand up to his lips for a kiss. “I thought you might like doing something besides learning our language, and my father was growing tired of dealing with the elves.”

Bilbo grinned up at him. “I am glad you considered me then.”

“Of course,” murmured Thorin, pulling Bilbo out of the council room. No one else was in the hall, as they had apparently run off to their respective places quickly. “Are you busy?”

“I did promise Ori I would come to the library. Would you like to come with me?”

“I would love to.”

 

The day had started off exhausting the moment Bilbo had woken up. He’d been intending on cuddling up with his husband for a while before they had to get up. Instead, he had been rushed from the room by Balin. A delegation from Mirkwood had arrived before he had stirred from his dreams.

In the first two weeks, his position as an ambassador between the two kingdoms had escalated in its workload. Any negotiation or meeting between the two had been delegated to him. No dwarf wanted to deal with the elves, and likewise, no elf desired dealing with the dwarves. Bilbo had little problem with this. It was exactly his job, after all.

They had already improved their relations. He could not complain if it improved further, purely because of him.

Unfortunately, being pulled away from his bed barely gave him any time for a proper change. He had felt quite silly dressed in his sleep clothes and meeting one of the elves’ delegation, but at the least he’d been able to get a hold of his robe as they’d left.

Thorin had not even woken up yet.

As it was, he had managed to send his husband a message letting him know that he’d likely be busy in a meeting with an elf.

It had gone on for far too long. He had almost fell asleep during it, which likely upset the elf but he couldn’t help it. Bilbo had become used to waking up and cuddling with Thorin in the morning and without that, he felt as though his whole day was set off. Even if this was his life now. He loved routine far too much.

Adventures were quite nice in the ideal, but he had had quite enough for now. All he truly wanted was to be relaxed and happy in Erebor, sprinkled with a few stressful meetings to remind him of that.

By the time he had made it out of the meeting, he had been far too stressed out to think of much at all. Otherwise, he might have noticed the ruckus the kingdom appeared to be in. It was not for lack of trying. Bilbo happened to think himself rather observant, but he was far too tired and several times almost ran into walls.

Bofur had appeared at his side, startling him greatly.

“Oh!” Bilbo smiles brightly, though underlaid with his exhaustion. “Hello, Bofur. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m just fine, thank you,” chuckled the dwarf and tipped his hat slightly. “You don’t look too well, though.”

“Yes, well,” sighed Bilbo and yawned, covering his mouth in embarrassment. “Sorry. I am rather tired I admit. I think a nap might do me well…”

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s what you want to do,” said Bofur airily.

Bilbo frowned in response and then realized Bofur had directed them down a different hall than the royal housing. He had truly been intending for a nap before dinner that night. He only vaguely recognized the halls they were in now.

Not very close to the royal rooms. He glanced questioningly at the dwarf walking next to him.

“Look, you can head back and take a nap after you see this, aye?”

Bofur winked at him and stopped, but gestured for Bilbo to continue on walking. With a larger frown, his mind on the softness of his bed and the welcome embrace of his dreams, he walked further along. There were more dwarves the further he went down and they all smiled eagerly at him. In fact, while he recognized several of the dwarves around, he did not know all of them. In fact, it seemed quite a good population of Erebor was in this one hall.

How strange and also discomforting, thought Bilbo. What were they doing here? What was _he_ doing here?

He paused and swallowed as he gazed back at his husband. Thorin stood there, dressed far too elegant for a normal day. The dwarves always dressed quite nicely, no doubt, but not that nice unless they were holding or doing something rather important.

Bilbo tried to recall if he had missed anything important happening today. They hadn’t had an opportunity to talk that morning with Bilbo in the meeting. Balin hadn’t said anything, though, and the advisor would have told him.

There was nothing coming to mind. He hoped he had not forgotten anything alarmingly important. That was unlike him.

“Hello, _ghivashel_ ,” greeted Thorin softly. Bilbo smiled in return. “Please, come with me.”

Bilbo took the offered hand, intertwining their fingers and offering another smile in return, though this one was far more nervous. What exactly was Thorin showing him? He could only assume that was what the dwarf was doing, as Bofur had suggested.

“Close your eyes,” whispered Thorin. Bilbo did, frowning more.

He heard the sound of a heavy door being opened. Due to the lack of his sight, he had to carefully move and follow Thorin through the door. The first thing that caught his attention was the sensation of grass against his toes. It was one he knew; one he had been so used to in the past but had not felt in a long while.

The brush of Thorin’s arm against his startled him as well.

“You can open your eyes,” said Thorin quietly as he had before.

When Bilbo did, he felt his heart leap. Around him and in front of him, lay a beautiful garden. It was not much like a hobbit’s garden, though that was mostly attributed to the fact that not much was actually growing here. It was the grass that impressed him, though he noted the two small saplings sprouting and the flower bushes about.

In fact, those flowers looked strikingly familiar. He looked up at the dwarf.

“Did you do this?”

“Aye, I...” Thorin breathed in and took his hand in both of his. “I wanted you to have somewhere you might like to spend time. This is all yours, in fact, you’re the only one allowed in here. You can let others in as well, but only by your word can others enter.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” said Bilbo softly. His hands were trembling. “Really, Thorin, I love Erebor…”

“I did not do this because I thought I needed to,” replied Thorin and squeezed his hands gently. “I wanted to. Bilbo, I do not know much of your home, but I want to know more and I... I am hoping that I may see it one day myself.”

“Oh... you... really?”

“Aye,” smiled Thorin and took a step back, looking around the garden himself. “I understand it must be quite different from a mountain and that is why I want to know. But this is not all. I have something else for you.”

“Oh, goodness,” murmured Bilbo, feeling his face flush. “Thorin, please.”

But his husband had stepped back closer to him, smiling softly down at him. Somewhere from within his robes, the prince had withdrawn a ring. It glittered strangely in the light. It was not quite like silver but he had never seen this metal before.

“This,” murmured Thorin. “This is a mithril ring. Mithril is a light metal, light as feathers, but if it were fashioned into armor, it would save your life no matter what.”

As he slipped it onto Bilbo’s fingers, he felt his heart flutter more.

He looked up into Thorin’s eyes and then smiled widely as he tugged his husband closer by the edge of his robe. Thorin breathed in softly.

“Sasakhabiya abnâmul,” he said it quietly, only for Bilbo to hear.

“What does that mean? You said it before…”

“You look beautiful,” Thorin translated, his eyes on Bilbo’s.

The kiss, soft but deep, startled him for a moment but he returned it almost instantly. His arms wrapped around Bilbo, pulling him closer and one hand moved to cup his cheek. When they pulled away, he beamed up at the dwarf.

“I love you,” murmured Bilbo, his heart overflowing.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who has read this, given it kudos, commented on it, subscribed to it, bookmarked it, and shared it. This is very, very dear to me. As many people probably know by this point, I am going to work on a sequel for this. This entire AU is very much my baby! The sequel will most likely be longer and my plan for it is to post it as I write, rather than how I posted this fic.


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